
Class __- 



Book 



■r\S 
1871 



s 



-€ 



THE STORY 



0* 



DON QUIXOTE 



HIS SQUIRE SANCHO PANZA. 



^ 






BY 

M. JONES, 



AUTHOR OF "THE BLACK rRINCE " AND "HISTORICAL TALES. 




LONDON: 

GEORGEROUTLEDGE & SONS. 

THE BROADWAY, LUDGATE ; 

NEW YORK : 416 BROOME STREET. 

1871. 






I HINTED BY BALLANTYNE AND CO! 
EDINBURGH AND LONDON 



PREFACE. 



HOPE I have not spoiled the dear, delightful old 
Don, by cutting out some of the tediousness of 
his biographer. The rambling episodes of those 
days are wearisome in these ; whilst some other little 
matters also required accommodating to modern notions, 
and to young readers, for whom what I have done is more 
specially designed. The central figure of the crack-brained, 
but high-minded, and, save for his madness, right-thinking 
Spanish gentleman, I have tried to bring out with an 
appreciative hand. Nor has honest Sancho been touched 
less reverentially. They are a brace of worthies whose 
intrinsic goodness can only be equalled by their exquisite 
follies. And so I leave the twain, to be laughed at and 
admired by all who can enjoy fun, and discern nobility of 
character, however disguised by oddity or eccentricity. 

Jarvis's translation is the one that has been used for my 
purpose. And I have only to add that I have scrupulously 
retained the original, homely, vigorous diction of that best 
presentation to English readers, of the marvellous creation 
of Cervantes. M. J. 



CONTENTS. 



CHAPTER I. 

PAGE 

Don Quixote, his quality and manner of life — He prepares for 

his adventures — Sets out — Is dubbed knight. . -9 

CHAPTER II. 

In search of adventures — His first redress of wrongs — Adventure 
with the merchants of Toledo — Brought home, battered and 
bruised — Plis friends burn his books of chivalry. . iS 

CHAPTER III. 

Sets out again with his squire Sancho Panza — Adventure with the 
windmill — With the monks and Biscainer — Entertained by 
the goatherds. . . . . . . .29 

CHAPTER IV. 

Beaten with pack-staves — Takes the inn for a castle — Mishap at 

the inn — Balsam of Fierabras — Sancho tossed in a blanket. . 43 

CHAPTER V. 

Don Quixote attacks the flock of sheep — The fulling-hammers — 

Sancho " makes came " of his master, and suffers for it. . s^ 



VI CONTENTS. 



CHAPTER VI. 

PAGE 

Mambrino's helmet — Adventure of the galley-slaves — Sancho's 

ass stolen from under him. . . . . -67 



CHAPTER VII. 

Don Quixote does penance in the Sierra Morena, or Sable Mountain 
— The knight's letter to Dulcinea del Toboso — Sancho's 
account of his visit to Dulcinea, whom he had never seen. . 79 

CHAPTER VIII. 

Adventure with the wine-skins — Don Quixote's discourse on 
learning and arms — Trick played upon him at the inn — 
Dispute concerning Mambrino's helmet and the pack-sadclle. 98 

CHAPTER IX. 

Don Quixote seized by officers of justice — Carried home in a cage 

by his friends. . . . . . . .121 

CHAPTER X. 

Sets out a second time with his squire — Sancho's discourse with 

his wife Teresa Panza. . . .■ . . 133 

CHAPTER XI. 

Don Quixote and Sancho arrive at Toboso — Sancho sent to the 
Lady Dulcinea — Dulcinea enchanted — Adventure with the 
strolling players. . . . . . -152 

CHAPTER XII. 

The Knight of the Looking-glasses— Don Quixote overthrows him 

in combat. . . . . . . .169 

CHAPTER XIII. 
Don Diego de Miranda — Adventure of the lions. . . . 1S3 



CONTENTS. vii 



CHAPTER XIV. 

PAGE 

Camacho's wedding — Cave of Montesinos — Adventure with the 

puppets — Sancho's peace-making. .... 198 



CHAPTER XV. 

The enchanted bark — The duke and duchess — Don Quixote's 
reception at the castle — His beard washed — How Sancho 
fared. ........ 2:4 

CHAPTER XVI. 

Sancho's conversation with the duchess — Goes a-hunting with the 
duke and duchess — How Dulcinea was to be disenchanted 
— Sancho consents to whip himself. .... 241 

CHAPTER XVII. 
The afflicted matron and her bearded ladies — The magic steed. . 257 

CHAPTER XVIII. 

Sancho made governor of the island of Barataria — His master 
gives him instructions for his conduct — Sancho departs for 
his government— Don Quixote's adventure with the cats. . 276 

CHAPTER XIX. 

Sancho as governor — A state-dinner — Sancho in a rage — How he 

administered the law. ...... 2S7 

CHAPTER XX. 

Sancho's wife and daughter — A bundle of letters. . . 301 

CHAPTER XXI. 

End of Sancho's government — Sancho sets off, on his ass, to the 
duke's castle — Falls into a pit — Gives an account of his 
government. . . . . . . . 318 



CONTENTS. 



CHAPTER XXII. 

PAGE 

Don Quixote leaves the castle — Adventure with the bulls — The 

knight's reception at Barcelona. .... 329 



CHAPTER XXIII. 

Don Quixote's dancing — Fight with the Knight of the White 
Moon — Worsted by him, and compelled to relinquish arms 
for a twelvemonth — Resolves to turn shepherd. . . 343 

CHAPTER XXIV. 

Don Quixote and Sancho carried off to the castle by strange horse- 
men — How Sancho disenchants Altisidora — And how he 
performed his whipping. . . . . -357 

CHAPTER XXV. 

Don Quixote and Sancho reach their own village — The knight 

falls ill — Recovers his senses, and dies. . . . 369 



THE STORY OF DON QUIXOTE 



AND 




ll 



HIS SOUIRE SANCHO PANZA. 



CHAPTER I. 

Don Quixote — Prepares for his adventures — Sets out — Is 
dubbed knight. 

N a village of La Mancha, in Spain, there once lived 
one of those gentlemen who usually keep a lance 
upon a rack, an old target, a lean horse, and a grey 
hound for coursing. A dish of boiled meat, consist- 
ing of somewhat more beef than mutton, the fragments served 
up cold on most nights, lentils on Fridays, bread and pull-it on 
Saturdays, with a small pigeon by way of addition on Sundays, 
consumed three fourths of his income. The rest was laid out 
in a surtout of fine black cloth, a pair of velvet breeches for 
holidays, with slippers of the same ; and on week-days he 
prided himself on the very best of his own homespun cloth. 
His family consisted of a housekeeper, somewhat above forty, a 
niece not quite twenty, and a lad for the field and the market, who 
both saddled the horse and handled the pruning-hook. The 
age of our gentleman bordered upon fifty years. He was of a 
robust constitution, spare-bodied, of a meagre visage ; a very 
. early riser, and a keen sportsman. 



IO THE STORY OF DON QUIXOTE 

Now this gentleman, whose name was Alonza Ouixana, had 
so muddled his brains by reading books of chivalry, stuffed full 
of stories of knights, and enchanters, and the like, that at last he 
imagined he was bound to turn knight-errant himself, and 
wander about the world in search of adventures. So, to pre- 
pare for this, the first thing he did was to scour up a suit 
of armour, which had been his great-great-grandfather's, and 
being mouMy and rust-eaten, had lain by, many long years, for- 
gotten in ? corner. This he cleaned and furbished up the best 
he could : but he perceived it had one grand defect, which was, 
that instead of a helmet, there was only a simple morrion or 
steel-cap ! a want which he dexterously supplied by contriving 
a sort of visor of pasteboard, which, being fixed to the head- 
piece, gave it the appearance of a complete helmet. It is true, 
indeed, that, to try its strength, and whether it was proof 
against a cut, he drew his sword, and, giving it two strokes, 
undid in an instant what he had been a week in doing. But 
not altogether approving of his having broken it to pieces with so 
much ease, to secure himself from the like danger for the future 
he made it over again, fencing it with small bars of iron within, 
in such a manner, that he rested satisfied of its strength ; and 
without caring to make a fresh experiment on it, he approved 
and looked upon it as a most excellent helmet. 

He had a wretched horse, all skin and bone, but to his crazi- 
ness it seemed the most admirable steed in the world ; and 
after puzzling himself for four days to find a name for it, 
he fixed upon that of Rozinante, as being both expressive 
and stately. Eight days' more puzzling supplied him with a 
name for himself, that of Don Quixote de la Mancha — La 
Mancha being the name of his province. 

His armour being now complete, and his steed, with himself, 
new named, nothing was wanting but some beautiful damsel, of 
noble birth, for the love of whom he might perform such 
wondrous deeds as knights-errant of old were wont ; and a 
good-looking country girl, who lived hard by, was chosen for 
this, under the high-sounding title of Dulcinea del Toboso — 
Toboso being the village where she was born. V 



AND HIS SQUIRE SANCHO PANZA. II 

All being ready, he got up before daybreak one hot July 
morning, and, without saying a word to any one, armed himself 
from head to foot, managed to stick his helmet on his head, 
mounted Rozinante, braced on his shield, and, grasping his 
lance, let himself out of his back-yard into the open plain. But 
he had not gone far, when it suddenly occurred to him that 
before seeking out any adventures he ought to have been 
dubbed a knight, and also to wear plain, white armour, without 
device on the shield, until his own valour had gained him one. 
It was a terrible difficuty ; got over, however, by making up his 
mind to be dubbed, according to the usage of chivalry, by the 
first knight whom he met, and to scour his armour on the earliest, 
opportunity, until it was as white as snow. Then giving his 
horse the rein, he jogged along leisurely until night-fall, when, 
seeing two young women standing at the door of an inn, which his 
crazed imagination took for a castle, all turrets and battlements, 
with drawbridge, moat, and everything else that belongs to a strong- 
hold, he drew near, fancying them the ladies of the place. Thegirls 
were so frightened at seeing a man armed in that manner, with lance 
and buckler, that they ran off into the house. Upon this, Don 
Quixote, lifting up the pasteboard visor from his dusty, meagre 
face, courteously entreated them not to fly, as it was impossible 
for a knight to injure any one, much less ladies of their exalted 
rank. The girls laughed so at this, and the knight got so angry 
at their rudeness, that the landlord, hearing the fuss, came out ; 
and, with much ado to keep his countenance at the ridiculous 
figure before him, civilly said, " If your worship is in quest of a 
lodging, bating a bed (for in this inn there is none to be had), 
everything else will be found here in great abundance." Don 
Quixote, perceiving the humility of the governor of the fortress 
(for such to him appeared the inn-keeper and the inn), answered, 
" Anything will serve me, Signor Castellano, for arms are my 
ornaments, and fighting my repose." The host thought he 
called him Castellano because he took him for an honest 
Castilian, and therefore replied, " If it be so, your worship's 
beds are hard rocks, and your sleep the being always awake ; 
and since it is so, you may venture to alight, being sure of find- 



12 THE STORY OF DON QUIXOTE 

ing in this poor hut sufficient cause for not sleeping a whole 
twelvemonth, much more one single night." So saying, he went 
and held Don Quixote's stirrup, who alighted with much diffi- 
culty and pains, for he had not broken his fast all that day. 
He presently requested of the host to take especial care of his 
steed, for he was the best piece of horse-flesh that ever ate bread 
in the world. The inn-keeper did not think him half so good as 
Don Quixote represented him to be, but, putting him up in the 
stable, returned to see what his guest would be pleased to order, 
whom the damsels were unarming (for they were already recon- 
ciled to him) ; and though they had taken off the back and 
breast pieces, they could not find out how to unlace his gorget, 
or take off the counterfeit beaver, which he had fastened in such 
a manner with green ribbons, that/ there being no possibility 
of untying them, they mUst of necessity be cut, which he would 
by no means consent to. So he remained all that night with 
his helmet on ; the strangest and most ridiculous figure im- 
aginable. 

Whilst the girls were taking off his armour, imagining them to 
be persons of the first quality, and ladies of that castle, he said 
to them, with great gaiety, " Never sure was knight so nobly 
served by ladies as was Don Quixote, after his departure from 
his village : damsels waited on his person, and princesses on 
his steed. O Rozinante ! for that, dear ladies, is my horse's 
name, and Don Quixote de la Mancha is my own ; for though 
I was not willing to discover myself, until the exploits done for 
your service and benefit should discover me, the time will come 
when your ladyships may command, and I obey ; and the valour 
of my arm shall manifest the desire I have to serve you." The 
girls, who were not accustomed to such flourishes, answered not 
a word, but only asked whether he would be pleased to eat any- 
thing. " With all my heart," answered Don Quixote ; " any- 
thing eatable would, I apprehend, come very seasonably." That 
day happened to be Friday, and there was nothing to be had in 
the inn excepting some miserable little dried trouts, which they 
offered him, saying they had nothing better. " So there be many 
troutlings," answered Don Quixote, " they may serve me in- 



AND HIS SQUIRE SANCHO PANZA. 13 

stead of one trout. But, be that as it will, let it come quickly ; 
for the toil and weight of arms cannot be supported without 
abundant food." They laid the cloth at the door of the inn, for 
the sake of the fresh breeze ; and the landlord brought him 
some of the ill-dried and worse-cooked fish, with a loaf of bread 
as black and mouldy as his armour : but it was matter of great 
laughter to see him eat ; for, having his helmet on, and the 
beaver up, he could not put anything into his mouth with his 
own hands, but somebody must do it for him : and so one of the 
aforesaid ladies performed this office. To give him drink, how- 
ever, would have been utterly impossible, if the host had not 
bored a reed, and, putting one end into his mouth, poured in the 
wine leisurely at the other ; all which he suffered patiently, 
rather than cut the lacings of his helmet. 

In the meantime there came to the inn a cow-doctor, who, as 
soon as he arrived, sounded his whistle of reeds four or five 
times ; which entirely confirmed Don Quixote in the thought 
that he was in some famous castle, that they served him with 
music, and that the poor jack was trouts, the coarse loaf the 
finest white bread, the girls ladies, and the host governor of the 
castle ; and so he concluded his resolution to be well taken, and 
his sally attended with success. But what gave him the most 
disturbance was, that he was not yet dubbed a knight ; thinking 
he could not lawfully undertake any adventure, until he had first 
received the order of knighthood. So, finishing his supper in 
haste, he called the landlord, and, shutting himself up with him 
in the stable, fell upon his knees before him and said, " I will 
never rise from this place, valorous knight, until your courtesy 
vouchsafes me a boon I mean to beg of you ; which will re- 
dound to your own honour, and to the benefit of human kind." 
The host stared at him, and not knowing what to do or say, 
strove to raise him from the ground, but in vain, until he had 
promised to grant him the boon he requested. " I expected no 
less, sir, from your great magnificence," answered Don Quixote ; 
" and therefore know, the boon I would request, and has been 
vouchsafed me by your liberality, is, that you shall to-morrow 
morning dub me a knight. This night in the chapel of your 



14 THE STORY OF DON QUIXOTE 

castle I will watch my armour : and to-morrow, as I have said, 
what I so earnestly desire shall be accomplished; that I may 
be duly qualified to wander through the four quarters of the 
world, in quest of adventures, for the relief of the distressed, as 
is the duty of chivalry, and of knights-errant." 

The host, who was an arch fellow, and had already enter- 
tained some suspicions of the madness of his guest, was now 
thoroughly convinced of it ; and, to make sport for the night, 
resolved to keep up the joke. So he told him a long rhodo- 
montade about himself having been a knight-errant in his young 
days, adding, that there was no chapel in his castle, in which to 
watch his armour (for it had been pulled down in order to be 
rebuilt) ; but, in cases of necessity, it might be watched wher- 
ever he pleased, and that he might do it that night in a court 
of the castle : the next day he should be dubbed a knight so 
effectually, that no one in the world could be more so. He 
asked him also whether he had any money about him ? Don 
Quixote replied, he had not a farthing, having never read, in the 
histories of knights-errant, that they carried any. To this the 
host replied, that he was under a mistake, and advised him 
never to travel without money, clean shirts, and some other 
useful matters. This was taken in good part ; and order being 
presently given for performing the watch of the armour, in a 
large yard adjoining the inn, Don Quixote, gathering all the 
pieces of it together, laid them upcn a cistern that stood close 
to a well ; then bracing on his buckler, and grasping his lance, 
with a solemn pace he began to walk backward and forward 
before the cistern, beginning his parade just as the day shut in. 

The host told all that were in the inn of the fun that was going 
on. So they came out to have a look at our knight, and saw 
that, with a composed air, he sometimes continued his walk ; 
at other times, leaning upon his lance, he looked wistfully at 
his armour, in the bright moonlight, without taking off his eyes 
for a long time together. 

While he was thus employed, one of the carriers, who put up 
there, had a mind to water his mules, and it was necessary first 
to remove Don Quixote's armour from off the cistern : who, 



AND HIS SQUIRE SANCHO PAN£A. 15 

seeing him approach, called to him with a loud voice, " Ho ! 
there, whoever thou art, rash knight, that approachest to touch 
the arms of the most valorous adventurer that ever girded 
sword, take heed what thou doest, and touch them not ; unless 
thou wouldst leave thy life a forfeit for thy temerity." The 
carrier troubled not his head with these speeches (it had been 
better for him if he had), but, taking hold of the straps, tossed 
the armour a good distance from him ; which Don Quixote 
perceiving, lifted up his eyes to heaven, and fixing his thoughts 
(as it seemed) on his mistress Dulcinea, said, " Assist me, dear 
lady, in this first affront offered to the breast enthralled to thee ; 
let not thy favour and protection fail me in this first moment of 
danger.'"' Uttering these and the like ejaculations, he let slip 
his target, and lifting up his lance with both hands, gave the 
carrier such a blow on the head, as laid him flat on the ground, 
in such piteous plight, that, had he seconded the blow, there 
would have been no need of a surgeon. This done, he gathered 
up his armour, and walked backward and forward with the 
same gravity as at first. 

Soon after, another carrier, not knowing what had happened 
(for still the first lay stunned), came out with the same intention 
of watering his mules ; and as he was going to clear the cistern, 
by removing the armour, Don Quixote, without speaking a 
word, or imploring anybody's protection, again let slip his 
target, and lifting up his lance, broke the second carrier's head 
in three or four places. All the people of the inn ran out to- 
gether at the noise, the inn-keeper among the rest, and the 
comrades of those that were wounded began to let fly a shower 
of stones at Don Quixote ; who sheltered himself the best he 
could under his shield, and durst not stir from the cistern, lest 
he should seem to abandon his armour. The host cried out to 
them to let him alone, for he had already told them he was mad, 
and that he would be acquitted as a madman though he should 
kill them all. Don Quixote also cried out louder, calling them 
cowards and traitors, and the lord of the castle a poltroon and 
a base-born knight, for suffering knights-errant to be treated in 
that manner ; and that, if he had received the order of knight- 



1 6 THE STORY OF DON QUIXOTE 

hood, he would make him smart for his treachery : " But for 
you, rascally and base scoundrels," said he, " I do not value you 
a straw : draw near, come on, and do your worst ; you shall 
quickly see the reward you are like to receive of your folly and 
insolence." This he uttered with so much vehemence and 
resolution, that he struck a terrible dread into the hearts of the 
assailants ; and for this reason, together with the landlord's 
persuasions, they forebore throwing any more stones ; so he 
permitted the wounded to be carried off, returning to the watch 
of his armour with the same tranquillity and sedateness as 
before. 

The host now thought it high time to dub him knight before 
worse came of it ; so telling him he had already sufficiently 
watched his armour, and that knighthood might (in case of 
need) be as well conferred in the middle of a field, as in the 
chapel of a castle, he brought out the book in which he entered 
the accounts of the straw and barley he furnished to the 
carriers, and, with the two girls, a boy carrying an end of 
candle before them, he came where Don Quixote was, whom he 
commanded to kneel. Then, reading as if out of his book, in 
the midst of it he lifted up his hand, and gave him a good blow 
on the nape of the neck, and after that, with his own sword, a 
handsome thwack on the shoulder, still muttering in a low tone. 
This done, he ordered one of the ladies to gird on his sword, 
which she did with the most obliging freedom, and discretion 
too, of which not a little was needful to keep them from bursting 
with laughter ; but indeed, the exploits they had already seen 
our new knight perform kept their mirth within bounds. At 
girding on the sword, the lady said, " May you be a fortunate 
knight, and victorious in battle." Don Quixote asked her 
name, that he might know to whom he was indebted for the 
favour received ; for he intended her a share of the honour he 
should acquire by the valour of his arm. She replied that she 
was called La Tolosa, and was a cobbler's daughter of Toledo. 
Don Quixote then desired her, for his sake, thenceforward to 
add to her name the Donna, and to call herself Donna Tolosa ; 
which she promised to do. The other buckled on his spurs, 



AND HIS SQUIRE SANCHO PANZA. 1 7 

and was also entreated to make a lady of herself, by adding the 
Donna to her surname of Molenaria. 

This done, the knight immediately mounted Rozinante, and, 
with a thousand thanks to the host for the favour he had con- 
ferred upon him, set forth in search of adventures. 




CHAPTER II. 

In search of adventures — His first redress of wrongs — Adven- 
ture with the merchants of Toledo — Brought ho?ne, bat- 
tered and bruised — His friends burn his books of chivalry. 

|T was about break of day, when Don Quixote issued 
forth from the inn, so delighted to see himself 
knighted, that the joy thereof almost burst his 
horse's girths. But recollecting the advice of his 
host concerning the necessary provisions for his undertaking, 
especially the articles of money and clean shirts, he resolved to 
return home, and furnish himself accordingly, and also provide 
himself with a squire : purposing to take into his service a cer- 
tain country-fellow of the neighbourhood, who was poor, and 
had children, yet was very fit for the squirely office of chivalry. 
With this thought, he turned Rozinante towards his village ; 
but had not gone far, when, on his right hand, from a thicket 
hard by, he fancied he heard a weak voice, as of a person com- 
plaining. Scarcely had he heard it, when he said, "I thank 
heaven for the favour it does me, in laying before me so early 
an opportunity of complying with the duty of my profession, 
and of reaping the fruit of my honourable desires. These are, 
doubtless, the cries of some distressed person, who stands in 
need of my protection and assistance." And turning the reins, 
he put Rozinante forward towards the place from whence he 
thought the voice came. He had entered but a few paces into the 
wood, when he saw a mare tied to an oak, and a lad to another, 
stripped from the waist upwards, who was the person that cried 
out ; and not without cause, for a stout country-fellow was 
laying on him very severely with a belt, and accompanying 



THE STORY OF DON QUIXOTE. 19 

every lash with a reprimand and a word of advice ; for, said 
he, " The tongue slow and the eyes quick." The boy answered, 
" I will do so no more, dear sir ; indeed, I will never do so 
again ; and I promise for the future to take more care of the 
flock." 

Now Don Quixote, seeing what passed, said in an angry 
tone, " Discourteous knight, it ill becomes thee to meddle with 
one who is not able to defend himself; get upon thy horse, and 
take thy lance " (for he had also a lance leaning against the 
oak, to which the mare was fastened), " for I '11 make thee know 
that it is cowardly to do what thou art doing." The country- 
man, seeing such a figure coming towards him, armed from 
head to foot, and brandishing his lance at his face, gave himself 
up for a dead man, and, with good words, answered, " Signor 
Cavalier, this lad, whom I am chastising, is a servant of mine ; 
I employ him to tend a flock of sheep which I have hereabouts, 
and he is so careless, that I lose one every day ; and because I 
correct him for his negligence or roguery, he says I do it out of 
covetousness, and for an excuse not to pay him his wages ; but, 
upon my word, he lies." — " Lies, in my presence ! pitiful rascal," 
said Don Quixote ; " by the sun that shines upon us, I have a 
good mind to run thee through and through with this lance : 
pay him immediately, without further reply \ if not, I vow I will 
despatch and annihilate thee in a moment ! Untie him in- 
stantly !" The countryman hung down his head, and without 
replying a word, untied the boy. Don Quixote asked the lad 
how much his master owed him, who answered, nine months' 
wages, at seven sixpences a month. Don Quixote reckoned it, and 
found that it amounted to sixty-three sixpences ; so he bade the 
countryman instantly disburse them, otherwise he must expect 
to die for it. The fellow in a fright cried out, that it was not so 
much ; for he must deduct the price of three pair of shoes he 
had given the lad upon account, and sixpence for physic when 
he was not well. " All this is very right," said Don Quixote; 
" but set the shoes and the physic against the stripes you have 
given him undeservedly ; so that upon these accounts he owes 
you nothing." — " The mischief is, Signor Cavalier," said the 



20 THE STORY OF DON QUIXOTE 

countryman, " that I have no money about me ; but let Andres 
go home with me, and I will pay him to the last penny." — " I 
go with him ! " said the lad ; " not I ; for, when he has me 
alone, he will lace my jacket with a vengeance." — " He will not 
do so," replied Don Quixote ; " it is sufficient that I lay my 
commands upon him ; and upon condition he swears to me, by 
the order of knighthood which he has received, I will let him 
go free, and will be bound for the payment." And so saying, he 
clapped spurs to Rozinante, and was soon a good way off. 

The countryman followed him with all the eyes he had ; and 
when Don Quixote was out of sight, he turned to his man 
Andres, and said, " Come hither, child, I am resolved to pay 
thee what I owe thee, as that redresser of wrongs commanded 
me." — " So you shall," said Andres ; " and you will do well to 
perform what that hOnest gentleman has commanded, who, if 
you do not pay me, will certainly come back and execute what 
he has threatened." — " And so say I too," said the countryman ; 
" but to show thee how much I love thee, I am resolved to aug- 
ment the debt to increase the payment ! " And taking him by 
the arm, he tied him again to the tree, where he laid upon him 
smartly, with many threats of worse in store for him. Andres 
went away in a passion, vowing he would find out the valorous 
Don Quixote de la Mancha, tell him all that had passed, and 
his master should pay for it sevenfold. 

The valorous Don Quixote was extremely well pleased with 
himself for this ; and coming presently to the centre of four 
roads, he stood still a while, after the manner of knights-errant, 
to consider which he should take. At last, he let go the reins, 
submitting to be guided by his horse, who took the direct road 
toward his stable. Having gone about two miles, Don Quixote 
discovered a company of people, who, as it afterwards appeared, 
were certain merchants of Toledo, going to buy silks in Murcia. 
There were six of them, and they came with their umbrellas, 
four servants on horseback, and three muleteers on foot. Scarce 
had Don Quixote espied them, when, imagining it some new 
adventure, he determined to imitate, as near as possibly he 
could, w r hat he had read in his books. So he settled himself 



AND HIS SQUIRE SANCHO PANZA. 21 

firmly in his stirrups, grasped his lance, covered his breast with 
his target, and, posting himself in the midst of the highway, 
stood waiting the coming up of those knights-errant, for such he 
judged them to be. When they were come so near as to be seen 
and heard, raising his voice, he, with an arrogant air, cried out, 
" Let the whole world stand, if the whole world does not confess, 
that there is not in the whole world a damsel more beautiful 
than the empress of La Mancha, the peerless Dulcinea del 
Toboso." The merchants stopped at these words, and by them, 
together with the strange figure of the knight, soon perceived 
the madness of the speaker ; whereupon one of them, who was 
somewhat of a wag, said to him, " Signor Cavalier, we do not 
know who this lady you mention may be ; let us but see her 
and, if she is of so great beauty as you intimate, we will, with all 
our hearts, confess that truth you demand from us." — " Should 
I show her to you," replied Don Quixote, " where would be the 
merit in confessing a truth so evident? the business is, that, 
without seeing her, you believe, confess, affirm, swear, and 
maintain it ; and if not, I challenge you all to battle, proud and 
monstrous as you are : and, whether you come on one by one 
(as the laws of chivalry require), or all together, as is the custom 
and wicked practice of those of your stamp, here I wait for you, 
confiding in the justice of my cause." — " Signor Cavalier," 
replied the merchant, " I beseech your worship, in the name of 
all the princes here present, in order that we may not lay a 
burden upon our consciences, by confessing a thing we never 
saw nor heard, that your worship would be pleased to show us 
some picture of this lady, though no bigger than a barley- 
corn ; and herewith we shall rest satisfied, and your worship 
remain contented, for indeed we are already so inclined to side 
with your worship, that I verily believe, if her picture showed her 
as ugly as sin, we should, just to oblige you, protest she was as 
beautiful as an angel." — " Base scoundrels," answered the knight, 
in a rage, "the lady Dulcinea is perfection itself, and you shall 
pay dear for your monstrous ignorance of her transcendant 
beauty." 

And so saying, with his lance couched, he ran with so much 



22 THE STORY OF DON QUIXOTE 

fury at him who had spoken, that, if good fortune had not 
ordered it that Rozinante stumbled and fell, in the midst of his 
career, it had gone hard with the daring merchant. Rozinante 
fell, and his master lay rolling about the field a good while, 
endeavouring to rise, but in vain ; so encumbered was he with 
his lance, target, spurs, and helmet, and with the weight of his 
antique armour. While he was thus struggling to get up, he 
continued calling out, " Fly not, ye dastardly rabble ; stay, ye 
race of slaves ; for it is through my horse's fault, and not my 
own, that I lie here." A muleteer of the company, not over 
good-natured, hearing the poor fallen gentleman speak in this 
arrogant fashion, could not stand it, so, coming to him, took 
the lance, and, after he had broken it to pieces, with one of the 
splinters he so belaboured Don Quixote, that, in spite of his 
armour, he threshed him as though he were wheat. His 
masters cried out to leave him; but the muleteer was pro- 
voked, and would not quit the game until he had quite spent 
the remainder of his rage. So, running for the other pieces of 
the lance, he finished the breaking them upon the poor fallen 
knight ; who, notwithstanding the tempest of blows that 
rained upon him, never shut his mouth, threatening heaven, 
and earth, and those assassins ; for such they seemed to him. 
At length the fellow was tired, and the merchants went on their 
way, leaving the poor belaboured knight, who, when he found 
himself alone, tried again to raise himself; but if he could not 
do it when whole and well, how should he when bruised and 
almost battered to pieces ? Yet still he thought himself a 
happy man, looking upon this as a misfortune peculiar to 
knights-errant, and imputing the whole to his horse's fault. 
But certainly he was horribly bruised, and finding that he was 
not able to stir, he began to lament his fate in such sort as he 
thought a knight-errant ought to do. Just at that moment, 
there passed by a countryman of his own village, who had 
been carrying a load of wheat to the mill ; who, seeing a man 
lying stretched on the earth, came up and asked him who he 
was, and what ailed him. Don Quixote returned him no 
answer, but went on with his lamentation ; upon which the 



AND HIS SQUIRE SANCHO PANZA. 23 

man, who did not know what to make of it all, took off his 
visor, which was beaten to pieces, wiped his face, which was 
covered with dust ; and the moment he had done wiping it, 
knew him, and said, "Ah, Signor Quixada, how came your 
worship in this condition ?" To which the knight returned him 
nothing but rambling answers. 

The good man seeing this, made a shift to take off his back 
and breast-piece, to see if he had received any wound ; but he 
saw no sign of any hurt. Then he endeavoured to raise him 
from the ground, and with much ado set him upon his ass, as 
being the beast of easier carriage. He gathered together all 
the arms, not excepting the broken pieces of the lance, and 
tied them upon Rozinante ; and so taking him by the bridle, 
and his ass by the halter, went on toward his village, utterly 
bewildered by the nonsense which Don Quixote, groaning 
amain, and so bruised and knocked about that he could scarce 
keep upon the ass, continued to pour out. 

In this fashion they reached the village about sunset ; 
but the peasant stayed until the night was a little advanced, 
that the people might not see the poor battered gentleman 
so scurvily mounted. When they arrived at Don Quixote's 
house, it was all in an uproar. The priest and the barber (who 
was also the doctor of the place), Don Quixote's great friends, 
happened to be there ; and the housekeeper was saying to 
them, "What is your opinion, Signor Pero Perez" (for that was 
the priest's name), " of my master's misfortune ? for neither he, 
nor his horse, nor the target, nor the lance, nor the armour, 
have been seen these six days past. Woe is me ! I am verily 
persuaded that these books of knight-errantry, which he is 
so often reading, have turned his brain ; and now I think of 
it, I have often heard him say, talking to himself, that he would 
turn knight-errant, and go about the world in quest of adven- 
tures. Out upon all such books that have thus spoiled the 
finest understanding in all La Mancha." The niece joined 
with her, and said, " Know, Mr Nicholas" (for that was the 
barber's name), " that it has often happened that my honoured 
uncle has continued pouring over these books of misadventures 



24 THE STORY OF DON QUIXOTE 

two whole days and nights ; then throwing the book out of his 
hand, he would draw his sword, and fence with the walls ; and 
when he was heartily tired, he would say he had killed four 
giants as tall as so many steeples, and that the sweat, which 
ran from him, when weary, was the blood of the wounds he had 
received in the fight. Then he would presently drink off a 
large jug of cold water, and be as quiet and well as ever, tell- 
ing us that water was a most precious liquor brought him by a 
great enchanter, who was his friend. But I take the blame of 
all this to myself, that I did not tell you, gentlemen, of my dear 
uncle's extravagances, before they had got so bad, that you 
might have prevented them, by burning all those books, of 
which he has so great store, and which justly deserve to be 
committed to the flames." — " I say the same," said the priest ; 
" and to-morrow shall not pass without overhauling them, and 
condemning them to the fire, that they may no more turn the 
head of my good friend." 

All this the peasant and Don Quixote overheard, and the 
former called to them to open the door. At hearing this they 
all came out ; and, as some knew their friend, and others 
their master and uncle, they all ran to embrace him, who 
was not yet alighted from the ass, for indeed he could not. 
" Forbear, all of you ! " he cried, " for I am sorely wounded 
through my horse's fault : carry me to my bed ; and, if it be 
possible, send for the sage Urganda, to search and heal my 
wounds." — " Look ye," said the housekeeper, immediately, " if 
my heart did not tell me right, on which leg my master halted. 
Get up-stairs ; for, without the help of that same Urganda, we 
shall find a way to cure you ourselves. Confounded, say I 
again, and a hundred times confounded, be those books of 
knight-errantry that have brought your worship to this pass." 
They carried him to his room, and searching for his wounds, 
found none at all : but he told them he was only bruised by a 
great fall he got with his horse Rozinante, as he was fighting 
with ten of the most prodigious and audacious giants that were 
to be found on the earth. " Ho, ho," says the priest, " what! 
there are giants too, are there ? Well, I shall set fire to them 



AND HIS SQUIRE SANCHO PANZA. 25 

all before to-morrow night." They asked Don Quixote a thou- 
sand questions, and he would answer nothing, but only desired 
something to eat, and that they would let him sleep, which was 
what he stood most in need of. 

Whilst he still slept on, the priest asked the niece for the keys 
of the chamber where the books were, those authors of the 
mischief; and she delivered them with a very good will. They 
all went in, and the housekeeper with them. There were above 
a hundred volumes in folio, very well bound, besides a great 
many small ones ; and the priest ordered the barber to reach 
him the books one by one, that he might see what they 
were about ; for, perhaps, they might find some that did not 
deserve to be burned. " No," said the niece, " there is no reason 
why any of them should be spared, for they have all been 
mischief-makers ; it will be best to fling them out of the window 
into the court-yard, and make a pile of them, and set fire to it, 
or else carry them into the back-yard, and there make a bonfire 
of them, and the smoke will offend nobody." The housekeeper 
said the same ; but the priest would not agree to that without 
first reading the titles at least. 

Those books took a great deal of overhauling. The first, 
after examination, was spared. The second was condemned 
utterly, the priest bidding the housekeeper open the casement, 
and throw it into the yard as the beginning of the pile for their 
intended bonfire ; and, nothing loth, she sent it flying. Another 
lot was sentenced, and, as there were great numbers of them, 
the housekeeper, to save herself the trouble of the stairs, threw 
them all, the shortest way, out of the window. At length the 
priest got tired of dipping first into one, and then into another 
volume ; so ordered all that were left, whatever they might be, to 
be burned. But while they were thus busy, they suddenly heard 
Don Quixote calling out to valorous knights to exert their 
prowess ; and, running to him, found him out of bed, raving and 
bawling, and laying furiously about him with his drawn sword, 
as broad awake as if he had never been asleep. They closed 
in with him, and laid him upon his bed by main force ; when, 
after he was a little composed, turning himself to the priest, he 



26 TTIE STORY OF DON QUIXOTE 

said, " Certainly, my lord archbishop, it is a great disgrace to us, 
who call ourselves the twelve peers, to let the knights-courtiers 
carry off the victory without more opposition, after we, the adven- 
turers, had gained the prize in the three preceding days." — " Say 
no more," said the priest ; " what is lost to-day may be won 
to-morrow ; mind your health for the present, for I think you 
must needs be extremely fatigued, if not sorely wounded.'' 
— " Wounded ! no," said Don Quixote ; " but bruised and 
battered I am for certain ; for that beast, Don Roldan, has 
pounded me to mash with the trunk of an oak, and all out of 
mere envy, because he sees that I am the sole rival of his 
prowess. But let me never more be called Rinaldo of Mon- 
tauban, if, as soon as I am able to rise from this bed, I do not 
make him pay dear for it, in spite of all his enchantments ; but 
at present bring me some breakfast, for I know nothing will do 
me so much good, and let me alone to revenge myself." They 
did so, gave him some victuals, and then he fell fast asleep 
again, leaving them in fresh wonder at his madness. 

That night the housekeeper burned all the books that were in 
the yard, and in the house too. One of the remedies which the 
priest and barber prescribed for their friend's malady was, to 
wall up the room where the books had been, that when he got 
up he might not find them; in hopes that, the cause being 
removed, the effect might cease ; and that they should pretend 
that an enchanter had carried them away, room and all ; which 
was presently done accordingly. Within two days after, Don 
Quixote got up, and the first thing he did was to visit his books 
Not finding the room where he left it, he went up and down 
looking for it. He came to the place where the door used 
to be, and he felt with his hands, and stared about every 
way without speaking a word ; but after some time asked the 
housekeeper whereabouts the room stood where his books 
were ? She, who was already well tutored what to answer, said 
to him, " What room, or what nothing, does your worship look 
for ? There is neither room nor books in this house, for a witch 
has carried all away." — " It was not a witch," said the niece, " but 
an enchanter, who came one night upon a cloud, and, alighting 



AND HIS SQUIRE SANCHO PANZA. 27 

from a serpent on which he rode, entered into the room. I know 
not what he did there, but after some little time, out he came 
flying through the roof, leaving the house full of smoke ; and 
when we went to see what he had been doing, we saw neither 
books nor room ; only we very well remember, both I and 
mistress housekeeper here, that when the old thief went away, 
he sai'd with a loud voice, that for a secret enmity he bore to the 
owner of those books and of the room, he had done a mischief 
in this house which should soon be manifest ; he told us also 
that he was called the sage Munniaton." — " Freston, he meant to 
say," replied Don Quixote. — " I know not," answered the house- 
keeper, " whether his name be Freston or Friton ; all I know is, 
that it ended in 'ton.'" — " It doth so," said Don Quixote ; " he is 
a wise enchanter, a great enemy of mine, and bears me a grudge, 
because by his skill and learning he knows that, in process of 
time, I shall engage in single combat with a knight whom he 
favours, and shall vanquish him without his being able to 
prevent it : and for this cause he endeavours to do me all the 
diskindness he can." 

In the meantime Don Quixote tampered with a labourer, a 
neighbour of his, and an honest man, but very shallow-brained. 
In short, he said so much, and promised him such great matters, 
that the poor fellow resolved to sally out with him, and serve 
him as his squire. Among other things, Don Quixote told him 
he ought to go with him willingly ; for some time or other such 
an adventure might present, that an island might be won in the 
turn of a hand, and he be left governor thereof. With these and 
the like promises, Sancho Panza (for that was the labourer's 
name) left his wife and children, and hired himself for a squire 
to his neighbour. Don Quixote presently cast about how to 
raise money, and, by selling one thing, pawning another, and 
losing by all, he scraped together a tolerable sum. He fitted 
himself likewise with a buckler, which he borrowed of a friend, 
and, patching up his broken helmet the best he could, ac- 
quainted his squire Sancho of the day and hour he intended to 
set out, that he might provide himself with what he should find 
to be most needful : above all, he charged him not to forget a 



28 THE STORY OF DON QUIXOTE. 

wallet. Sancho said he would be sure to carry one, and that he 
intended also to take with him an ass he had, being a very good 
one, because he was not used to travel much on foot. As to 
the ass, Don Quixote paused a little, endeavouring to recollect 
whether any knight-errant had ever carried a squire mounted 
ass-wise : but no instance of the kind occurred to his memory. 
However, he consented that he should take his ass with him, 
purposing to accommodate him more honourably, the first oppor- 
tunity, by dismounting the first discourteous knight he should 
meet. He provided himself also with shirts, and what other 
things he could, according to the advice given him by the 
innkeeper. 




CHAPTER III. 

Sets out again with his squire Sancho Panza — Adventure with 
the windmill — With the monks and Biscai?ier — E?iter- 
tained by the goatherds. 

|LL being in readiness, Don Quixote and Sancho Panza, 
without saying a word to any one, got quietly out of 
the village ; Sancho riding upon his ass, with his 
wallet and leathern bottle, and with a vehement de- 
sire to find himself governor of the island which his master had 
promised him. Don Quixote happened to take the same route 
he had done in his first expedition, through the plain of Montiel, 
which he passed over with less uneasiness than the time before ; 
for it was early in the morning, and the rays of the sun darting 
on them aslant gave them no disturbance. Now Sancho Panza 
said to his master, " I beseech your worship, good sir knight- 
errant, that you forget not your promise concerning that same 
island ; for I shall know how to govern it, be it never so big." 
To which Don Quixote answered, " You must know, friend 
Sancho, that it was a custom much in use among the knights- 
errant of old, to make their squires governors of the islands or 
kingdoms they conquered ; and I am determined to follow so 
excellent a custom, and that right soon ; for if you live and I 
live, before six days are ended, I may probably win such a 
kingdom as may have others depending on it, fit for thee to be 
crowned king of one of them." — " So then," answered Sancho 
Panza, " if I were a king, Mary Gutierrez, my wife, would at least 
come to be queen, and my children infantas." — " Who doubts 
it ? " answered Don Quixote.—" I doubt it," replied Sancho 



30 THE STORY OF DON QUIXOTE 

Panza ; " for I am verily persuaded, that if kingdoms were 
rained down upon the earth, none of them would fit well upon 
the head of Maria Gutierrez ; for you must know, sir, she is not 
worth two farthings for a queen. The title of countess would 
sit better upon her." — " Let us leave that, Sancho," answered 
Don Quixote ; " but do thou have a care not to debase thy 
mind so low, as to content thyself with being less than a lord- 
lieutenant." — " Sir, I will not," answered Sancho ; " especially 
having so great a man for my master as your worship, who will 
know how to give me whatever is most fitting for me." 

As they were thus talking, they perceived some thirty or forty 
windmills that were in that plain ; and Don Quixote seeing 
them, said to his squire, " Look yonder, friend Sancho Panza, 
where you may discover somewhat more than thirty monstrous 
giants, with whom I intend to fight, and take away all their 
lives ; with those spoils we will begin to enrich ourselves." — 
" What giants ?" said Sancho Panza. — " Those you see yonder," 
answered his master, " with those long arms ; for some of them 
are wont to have them almost two miles long." — " Sir," answered 
Sancho, " those are not giants, but windmills ; and what seem 
to be arms are the sails which, whirled about by the wind, 
make the mill stone go." — " One may easily see," answered Don 
Quixote, " that you do not understand adventures. I say they 
are giants ; and, if you are afraid, get out of the way, whilst I 
engage with them in a fierce and unequal combat." And so 
saying, he clapped spurs to Rozinante, without minding the cries 
his squire sent after him, assuring him that those he went to 
assault were, without all doubt, windmills, and not giants. But 
he was so fully persuaded that they were giants, that he neither 
heard the outcries of his squire Sancho, nor yet discerned what 
they were, though he was very near them ; but went on, crying 
out aloud, " Fly not, ye cowards and vile caitiffs, for it is a single 
knight who assaults you." Now the wind rose a little, and the 
great sails began to move ; which Don Quixote perceiving, 
said, " Well, though you should move more arms than the giant 
Briareus, you shall pay for it." 

So saying, and recommending himself devoutly to his lady 



AND HIS SQUIRE SANCHO PANZA. 3 1 

Dulcinca, beseeching her to succour him in the present danger, 
being well covered with his buckler, and setting his lance in the 
rest, he rushed on as fast as Rozinante could gallop, and 
attacked the first mill before him. Running his lance into the 
sail, the wind whirled it about with so much violence, that it 
broke the lance to shivers, dragging horse and rider after it, and 
tumbling them over and over on the plain, in very evil plight. 
Sancho Panza hastened to his assistance as fast as his ass could 
carry him ; but when he came up to him, found him not able to 
stir, so violent was the blow he and Rozinante had received in 
falling. "Goodness guide us ! w said Sancho, "did I not warn 
you to have care of what you did, for that they were nothing but 
windmills ? and nobody could mistake them but one that had 
the like in his head." — " Peace, friend Sancho," answered Don 
Quixote ; " for matters of war are, of all others, most subject to 
continual mutations. Now, I verily believe, and it is most cer- 
tainly so, that the sage Freston, who stole away my chamber 
and books, has metamorphosed these giants into windmills, on 
purpose to deprive me of the glory of vanquishing them, so 
great is the enmity he bears me ; but when he has done his 
worst, his wicked arts will avail but little against the goodness 
of my sword." With that Sancho helped him to rise ; and 
mounting him again upon Rozinante, they followed the road 
that led to a certain pass in the mountains, for there, Don 
Quixote said, they could not fail to meet with many and various 
adventures, it being a great thoroughfare. Yet he went on very 
melancholy for want of his lance ; and, speaking of it to his squire, 
said, " I remember to have read that a certain Spanish knight, 
called Diego Perez de Vargas, having broken his sword in fight, 
tore off a huge branch or limb from an oak, and performed such 
wonders with it that day, and dashed out the brains of so many 
Moors, that he was surnamed Machuca, that is, the Bruiser; 
and, from that day forward, he and his descendants bore the 
names of Vargas and Machuca. I tell you this, because from 
the first oak or crab-tree we meet I mean to tear such another 
limb ; and I purpose and resolve to do such feats with it, that 
you shall deem yourself most fortunate in meriting to behold 



32 THE STORY OF DON QUIXOTE 

them, and to be an eye-witness of things which can scarcely 
be believed." Quoth Sancho, " I believe all just as you say, 
sir ; but, pray, set yourself upright in your saddle ; for you seem 
to me to ride sideling, occasioned, doubtless, by your being so 
sorely bruised by the fall." — " It is certainly so," answered Don 
Quixote; "and, if I do not complain of pain, it is because 
knights-errant are not allowed to complain of any wound what- 
ever, though their entrails come out at it." — " If it be so, I have 
nothing to reply," answered Sancho ; " but, in truth, I should 
be glad to hear your worship complain, when anything ails you. 
As for myself, I must complain of the least pain I feel, unless 
this business of not complaining be understood to extend to the 
squires of knights-errant." Don Quixote could not forbear 
smiling at the simplicity of his squire, and told him he might 
complain whenever, and as much as he pleased, with or without 
cause, having never yet read anything to the contrary in the 
laws of chivalry. 

Here Sancho put him in mind that it was time to dine. His 
master answered, that at present he had no need ; but that he 
might eat whenever he thought fit. With this licence, Sancho 
settled himself the best he could upon his beast ; and, taking 
out what he carried in his wallet, jogged on eating, behind his 
master, very leisurely, now and then lifting the bottle to his 
mouth with intense relish. Whilst he went on in this manner, 
repeating his draughts, hetfhought no more of the promises his 
master had made him ; nor did he think it any toil, but rather 
a recreation, to go in quest of adventures, though never so 
perilous. In fine, they passed that night among some trees, 
from one of which Don Quixote tore a withered branch, that 
might serve him in some sort for a lance, and fixed it to the iron 
head or spear of that which was broken. All that night, he 
slept not a wink, thinking of his lady Dulcinea, as he had read 
in his books, where the knights are wont to pass many nights 
together, without closing their eyes, in forests and deserts, enter- 
taining themselves with the remembrance of their mistresses. 
Not so did Sancho pass the night ; he made but one sleep of it, 
and, if his master had not roused him, neither the beams' of the 



AND HIS SQUIRE SANCHO PANZA. 23 

sun, that darted full in his face, nor the melody of the birds, 
could have awaked him. At his uprising he took a hearty 
drink at his bottle, and found it much lighter than the evening 
before, which grieved his very heart, for he did not think they 
were in the way to remedy that defect very soon. Don Quixote 
would not break his fast ; for, as it is said, he resolved to sub- 
sist upon pleasant remembrances. 

They returned to the road they had entered upon the day 
before, towards the pass in the mountains, which they dis- 
covered about three in the afternoon. " Here," said Don 
Quixote, " brother Sancho Panza, we may thrust our hands 
up to the elbows in what they call adventures. But take this 
caution with you, that, though you should see me in the greatest 
peril in the world, you must not lay your hand to your sword 
to defend me, unless you see that they who assault me are vile 
mob and mean scoundrels ; in that case you may assist me. 
But if they should be knights, it is in no wise lawful, nor 
allowed by the laws of chivalry, that you should intermeddle 
until you are dubbed a knight." — " I assure you, sir," answered 
Sancho, " your worship shall be obeyed most punctually herein, 
and the rather, because I am naturally very peaceable, and an 
enemy to thrusting myself into brangles and squabbles ; but for 
all that, as to what regards the defence of my own person, I 
shall make no great account of those same laws, since every 
one is allowed to defend himself against whoever would annoy 
him." — "I say no less," answered Don Quixote; "but in the 
business of assisting Ine against knights, you must restrain 
and keep in your natural impetuosity." — " I say, I will do so," 
answered Sancho ; " and I will observe this precept most reli- 
giously." 

As they were thus discoursing, there appeared in the road two 
monks of the order of St Benedict, mounted upon two huge 
mules. They wore travelling masks, and carried umbrellas. 
Behind them came a coach, with a lady in it ; and four or five 
men on horseback, with two muleteers on foot. The monk's 
were not travelling with the lady, though they were on the 
same road. But scarcely had Don Quixote espied them, when 

C 



34 THE STORY OF DON QUIXOTE 

he said to his squire, " Either I am deceived, or this is like to 
prove the most famous adventure that ever was seen ; for those 
black bulks that appear yonder must be enchanters, who are 
carrying away some princess, whom they have stolen, in that 
coach ; and I am obliged to redress this wrong to the utmost of 
my power." — " This may prove a worse job than the windmills," 
said Sancho. " Pray, sir, take notice, that those are Benedictine 
monks, and the coach must belong to some travellers. Pray, 
hearken to my advice, and have a care what you do." — " I have 
already told you, Sancho," answered Don Quixote, "that you 
know little of adventures ; what I say is true, and you will see 
it presently." So saying, he advanced, and planting himself in 
the midst of the highway by which the monks were to pass, 
cried. out, with a loud voice, " Diabolical and monstrous race ! 
either instantly release the high-born princess, whom you are 
carrying away in that coach against her will, or prepare for 
instant death, as the just chastisement of your wicked deeds." 
The monks stopped their mules, and stood wondering, as well 
at the figure of Don Quixote as at his expressions ; to which 
they answered, " Signor Cavalier, we are neither diabolical nor 
monstrous, but a couple of monks, who are travelling on our 
own business, and are entirely ignorant whether any princess 
is carried away by force in that coach or not." — " Soft words 
do nothing with me, for I know you, treacherous scoundrels," 
said Don Quixote. And without staying for any other reply, he 
clapped spurs to Rozinante, and, with the lance couched, ran at 
the foremost monk with such fury, that, if the man had not slid 
down from his mule, he would have been tumbled to the ground, 
in spite of his teeth, and wounded to boot, if not killed outright. 
The second monk, seeing his comrade treated in this manner, 
clapped spurs to his mule's sides, and began to scour along the 
plain lighter than the wind itself. Sancho Panza, seeing the 
monk on the ground, leaped nimbly from his ass, and, running 
to him, began to take off his dress. In the meanwhile, the 
monks' two servants coming up, asked him why he was stripping 
their master of his clothes ? Sancho answered, that they were 
his lawful perquisites, as being the spoils of the battle which his 



AND HIS SQUIRE SANCHO PANZA. 35 

lord Don Quixote had just won. The servants, who did not 
understand what was meant by spoils or battles, seeing Don 
Quixote at a distance, talking with those in the coach, fell upon 
Sancho, threw him down, gave him a hearty kicking, and left 
him stretched on the ground, breathless and senseless ; — whilst 
the monk got upon his mule again, and pale as death, spurred 
away after his companion. Don Quixote, as was said, stood 
talking to the lady in the coach, saying, " Your beauty, dear 
lady, may dispose of your person as pleaseth you best ; for your 
haughty oppressors lie prostrate on the ground, overthrown by 
my invincible arm : and that you may not be at any pains to 
learn the name of your deliverer, know that I am called Don 
Quixote de la Mancha, knight-errant and adventurer, captive 
to the peerless and beauteous Dulcinea del Toboso ; and, in 
requital of the benefit you have received at my hands, all I 
desire is, that you would return to Toboso, and, in my name, 
present yourself before that lady, telling her what I have done 
to obtain your liberty." 

All that Don Quixote said was overheard by a certain squire, 
who accompanied the coach, a Biscainer, who, finding he would 
not let the coach go forward, but insisted upon its immediately 
returning to Toboso, flew at Don Quixote, and, taking hold of 
his lance, addressed him, in bad Castilian, and worse Biscaine, 
after this manner : " Be gone, cavalier, and be hanged to you ! 
I swear, if thou dost not quit the coach, thou forfeitest thy life, 
as I am a Biscainer." Don Quixote understood him very well, 
and, with great calmness, answered, " Wert thou a gentleman, 
as thou art not, I would before now have chastised thy folly and 
presumption, thou pitiful slave." To which the Biscainer re- 
plied, " I no gentleman ! Thou liest. If thou wilt throw away 
thy lance, and draw thy sword, thou shalt see I will make no 
more of thee than a cat does of a mouse. Thou liest : hast 
thou anything else to say ? " — " Thou shalt see that presently," 
answered Don Quixote ; who, throwing down his lance, drew 
his sword, and grasping his buckler, set upon the Biscainer, 
with a resolution to kill him. The Biscainer, seeing him come 
on in that manner, though he would fain have alighted from 



35 THE STORY OF DON QUIXOTE 

his mule, had yet only time to draw his sword ; but it happened 
well for him that he was close to the coach side, out of which 
he snatched a cushion, which served him for a shield ; and 
immediately to it they went, as if they had been mortal enemies. 
The rest of the company would have made peace between them, 
but they could not : for the Biscainer swore, in his gibberish, 
that, if they would not let him finish the combat, he would kill 
his mistress, and everybody that offered to hinder him. The 
lady of the coach, amazed and affrighted at what she saw, bid 
the coachman put a little out of the way, and so sat at a distance, 
beholding the vigorous conflict ; in the progress of which, the 
Biscainer gave Don Quixote so huge a stroke on one of his 
shoulders, and above his buckler, that, had it not been for his 
coat of mail, it had cleft him down to the girdle. Don Quixote, 
feeling the weight of the blow, cried out aloud, saying, " O lady 
of my soul ! Dulcinea ! flower of all beauty, succour this thy 
knight, who, to satisfy thy great goodness, exposes himself to 
this rigorous extremity ! " The saying this, the drawing his 
sword, the covering himself well with his buckler, and falling 
turiously on the Biscainer, was all done in one moment, he 
resolving to venture all on the fortune of one single blow. The 
Biscainer, who saw him coming thus upon him, covered himself 
well with his cushion, but was not able to turn his mule about 
to the right or the left, she being already so jaded, and so little 
used to such sport, that she would not stir a step. His sword 
came down first, and dealt the knight so furious a stroke as 
would have ended him on the spot, had not the blade turned 
aside, so that it only sliced off the greater part of his helmet, 
and half his left ear. 

Who can worthily recount the rage that entered into the 
breast of our knight, at seeing himself so roughly handled ? 
Let it suffice that it was such, that he raised himself afresh in 
his stirrups, and gripping his sword tighter in both hands, dis- 
charged it with such fury upon the Biscainer, taking him full 
upon the cushion, and upon the head (which he could not 
defend), that he must have been knocked out of the saddle, had 
he not laid fast hold of his mule's neck. Notwithstanding that, 



AND HIS SQUIRE SANCHO PAXZA. 37 

he lost his stirrups, and let go his hold, whilst the mule, frightened 
by the terrible stroke, began to run about the field, and at two 
or three plunges laid her master flat upon the ground. Don 
Quixote stood looking on with great calmness, and when he saw 
him fall, leaped from his horse, with much agility ran up to him, 
and, clapping the point of his sword to his eyes, bid him yield, 
or he would cut off his head. The Biscainer was so stunned 
that he could not answer a word : and it had gone hard with 
him (so blinded with rage was Don Quixote) if the lady in the 
coach, who hitherto in great dismay beheld the conflict, had not 
earnestly besought him that he would do her the great kind- 
ness and favour to spare the life of her squire. Don Quixote 
answered with much solemnity and gravity, "Assuredly, fair 
lady, I am very willing to grant your request, but it is upon a 
certain condition and compact ; which is, that this knight shall 
promise me to repair to the town of Toboso, and present himself, 
as from me, before the peerless Dulcinea, that she may dispose 
of him as she shall think fit." The terrified and disconsolate 
lady, without considering what Don Quixote required, and with- 
out inquiring who Dulcinea was, promised him her squire 
should perform whatever he enjoined him. " In reliance upon 
this promise," said Don Quixote, " I will do him no further 
hurt, though he has well deserved it at my hands." 

By this time Sancho Panza had got upon his legs, somewhat 
roughly handled by the monks' servants, and stood beholding 
very attentively the combat of his master Don Quixote, hoping 
that he would get the victory, that he might thereby win some 
island, of which to make him governor, as he had promised 
him. Now, seeing the conflict at an end, and that his master 
was ready to mount again upon Rozinante, he came and held 
his stirrup ; but before the knight got up, he fell upon his knees 
before him, and, taking hold of his hand, kissed it, saying to 
him, " Be pleased, my lord Don Quixote, to bestow upon me the 
government of that island, which you have won in this rigorous 
combat ; for, be it never so big, I find in myself ability sufficient 
to govern it, as well as the best he that ever governed island in 
the world." To which Don Quixote answered, " Consider, 



38 THE STORY OF DON QUIXOTE 

brother Sancho. that this adventure, and others of this nature, 
are not adventures of islands, but of cross-ways, in which nothing 
is to be gotten but a broken head, or the loss of an ear. Have 
patience : for adventures will offer, whereby I may not only 
make thee a governor, but something better." Sancho returned 
him abundance of thanks, kissed his hand again, and the skirt 
of his coat of mail ; then helped him to get upon Rozinante, 
and himself mounting his ass, followed his master ; who, going 
off at a round rate, without taking his leave, or speaking to 
those of the coach, entered into a wood that was hard by. 

Sancho followed him as fast as his beast could trot ; but Rozi- 
nante made such way, that seeing himself like to be left behind, 
he was forced to call aloud to his master to stay for him. Don 
Quixote did so, checking Rozinante by the bridle, until his 
weary squire overtook him ; who, as soon as he came near, said 
to him, " Methinks, sir, it would not be amiss to look after your 
safety, for considering in what condition you have left your ad- 
versary, it is not improbable the officers of justice may be after 
us, and if we get into their clutches, we may chance to smart 
for it." — " Peace," said Don Quixote ; "for where have you ever 
seen or read of a knight-errant being brought before a court of 
justice, let him have committed ever so many homicides?" — " I 
know nothing of your Omecils," answered Sancho ; " only this I 
know, that the officers have something to say to those who fight 
in the fields ; and as to this other matter, I intermeddle not in 
it." — "Set your heart at rest, friend," answered Don Quixote; 
"for I should deliver you out of the hands of the Chaldeans ; 
how much more out of those of the officers of justice. But tell 
me now, have you ever seen a more valorous knight than I, 
upon the whole face of the known earth ? " — " In truth," 
answered Sancho, "'what I dare affirm is, that I never served 
a bolder master than your worship, in all the days of my life ; 
and I only hope we be not called to an account for these dar- 
ings. What I beg of your worship is, that you would let your 
wounds be dressed. I have here some lint, and a little oint- 
ment, in my wallet." — "All this would have been needless," 
answered Don Quixote, " if I had bethought myself of making 



AND HIS SQUIRE SANCHO PANZA. 39 

a vial of the balsam of Fierabras ; for, with one single drop of 
that, we might have saved both time and medicines." — " What 
vial, and what balsam is that ? " said Sancho Panza. — " It is a 
balsam," answered Don Quixote, " of which I have the receipt 
by heart ; and he that has it need not so much as think of 
dying by any wound. Therefore, when I shall have made it, 
and given it you, all you will have to do is, when you see me in 
some battle cleft asunder (as it frequently happens), to take up 
fair and softly that part of my body which shall fall to the 
ground, and, with the greatest nicety, before the blood is con- 
gealed, place it upon the other half that shall remain in the 
saddle, taking especial care to make them tally exactly. Then 
must you immediately give me to drink only two draughts of 
the balsam aforesaid, and then will you see me become sounder 
than any apple." — " If this be so," said Sancho, " I renounce 
from henceforward the government of the promised island, and 
desire no other thing in payment of my many and good ser- 
vices, but only that your worship will give me the receipt of this 
extraordinary liquor ; for I daresay it will anywhere fetch more 
than a shilling an ounce, and I want no more to pass this life 
creditably and comfortably. But I should be glad to know 
whether it will cost much the making?" — "For less than 
eighteen pence one may make nine pints," answered Don 
Quixote. — " Why then," replied Sancho, " does your worship 
delay to make it, and to teach it me ? " — " Peace, friend," an- 
swered Don Quixote ; " for the present, let us set about the 
cure ; for my ear pains me more than I could wish." 

Sancho took some lint and ointment out of his wallet ; but 
when Don Quixote perceived that his helmet was broken, he 
was ready to run stark mad ; and, laying his hand on his sword, 
vowed he would never rest until he had revenged himself, and 
taken by force a helmet like it, or one as good, from some other 
knight. Sancho reminded his master that men with helmets 
were not to be met on those roads, where were only carriers and 
carters, who, so far from wearing such things, had perhaps never 
heard of them all the days of their lives. " You are mistaken 
in this," said Don Quixote ; "for we shall not be two hours in 



AO THE STORY OF DON QUIXOTE 

these cross-ways before we shall see more armed men than 
came to the siege of Troy, to carry off the fair Helen." — " Well, 
be it so/' said Sancho ; " and good luck to us, that we may* 
speedily win this island, which costs me so dear." — " I have 
already told you, Sancho, to be in no pain upon that account ; 
for, if an island cannot be had, there is the kingdom of Denmark, 
or that of Prester John, which will fit you like a ring to your 
finger. But let us leave this to its own time, and see if you 
have anything for us to eat in your wallet ; and we will go pre- 
sently in quest of some castle, where we may lodge this night, 
and make the balsam that I told you of ; for my ear pains me 
very much." — " I have here an onion, and a piece of cheese, 
and I know not how many crusts of bread," said Sancho ; "but 
they are not eatables fit for so valiant a knight as your wor- 
ship."—" How dull you are ! " answered Don Quixote : " you 
must know, Sancho, that it is an honour to knights-errant not 
to eat in a month ; and if they do eat, it must be of what comes 
next to hand : and, if you had read as many histories as I have 
done, you would have known this ; for though I have perused 
a great many, I never yet found any account given in them 
that ever knights-errant did eat, unless it were by chance, 
and at certain sumptuous banquets made on purpose for 
them — the rest of their days they lived, as it were, upon their 
smelling. And though it is to be presumed they could not 
subsist without eating, it must likewise be supposed that, as 
they pass most part of their lives in wandering through forests 
and deserts, and without a cook, their most usual diet must 
consist of rustic viands, such as those you now offer me. So 
that, friend Sancho, let not that trouble you, which gives me 
pleasure ; nor endeavour to make a new world, or to throw 
knight-errantry off its hinges." — " Pardon me, sir," said Sancho ; 
"for, as I can neither read nor write, as I told you before, I am 
entirely unacquainted with the rules of the knightly profession ; 
and. from henceforward I will furnish my wallet with all sorts of 
dried fruits for your worship, who are a knight ; and for myself, 
who am none, I will supply it with poultry, and other things 
of more substance." — "I do not say, Sancho," replied Don 



AND HIS SQUIRE SANCHO PANZA. 4 1 

Quixote, " that knights-errant are obliged to eat nothing but 
dried fruit, as you say ; but that their most usual sustenance 
was of that kind, and of certain herbs they found up and down 
in the fields, which they very well knew ; and so do I." — " It is 
a happiness to know these same herbs," answered Sancho ; 
"for I am inclined to think we shall one day have occasion 
to make use of that knowledge." 

So saying, he took out what he had provided, and they ate 
together in a very peaceable and friendly manner, but, being 
desirous to seek out some place to lodge in that night, soon 
finished their poor and dry commons. They presently mounted, 
and made what haste they could to get to some inhabited place 
before night ; but both the sun and their hopes failing them near 
the huts of certain goatherds, they determined to take up their 
lodging there. Eut if Sancho was grieved that they could not 
reach some habitation, his master was as much rejoiced to lie 
in the open air ; making account that, every time this befell 
him, he was doing such an act as gave a fresh evidence of his 
title to chivalry. 

He was kindly received by the goatherds ; and Sancho, hav- 
ing accommodated Rozinante and his ass the best he could, 
followed the scent of certain pieces of goat's flesh that were 
boiling in a kettle on the fire. This the goatherds took off 
and, spreading some sheep-skins on the ground, very speedily 
served up their rural mess, inviting them both, with show of 
much good-will, to take share of what they had. Six of them, 
that belonged to the fold, sat down round about the skins, hav- 
ing first, with rustic civility, desired Don Quixote that he would 
seat himself upon a trough with the bottom upwards, placed on 
purpose for him. Don Quixote sat down, and Sancho remained 
standing to serve the cup, which was made of horn. His mas- 
ter, seeing him standing, said to him, " That you may see, 
Sancho, the intrinsic worth of knight-errantry, and how fair a 
prospect its meanest retainers have of speedily gaining the 
respect and esteem of the world, I will that you sit here by my 
side, and in company with these good folks, and that you be one 
and the same thing with me, who am your master and natural 



42 THE STORY OF DON QUIXOTE. 

lord ; that you eat from off my plate, and drink of the same cup 
in which I drink ; for the same may be said of knight-errantry, 
which is said of love, that it makes all things equal." — " I give 
you a great many thanks, sir," said Sancho ; " but let me tell 
your worship, that, provided I have victuals enough, I can eat 
as well, or better, standing, and alone by myself, than if I were 
seated close by an emperor. And further, to tell you the truth, 
what I eat in my corner, without compliments or ceremonies, 
though it were nothing but bread and an onion, relishes better 
than turkeys at other folks' tables, where I am forced to chew 
leisurely, drink little, wipe my mouth often, and neither sneeze 
nor cough when I have a mind. So that, good sir, as to these 
honours your worship is pleased to confer upon me, be pleased 
to convert them into something of more use and profit to me." 
— "All this notwithstanding," said Don Quixote, "you shall sit 
down ; " and, pulling him by the arm, he forced him to sit down 
next him. The goatherds, who did not understand this jargon 
of squires and knights-errant, did nothing but eat, and listen, 
and stare at their guests, who, with much cheerfulness and 
appetite, swallowed down pieces as big as one's fist. The meat 
being finished, they spread upon the skins a great quantity of 
acorns, together with half a cheese, harder than if it had been 
made of plaster of Paris. The horn stood not idle all this 
while ; for it went round so often, now full, now empty, like the 
bucket of a well, that they presently emptied one of the two 
wine-skins that hung in view. 

Don Quixote spent more time in talking than in eating. 
Sancho was silent, stuffing himself with the acorns, and often 
visiting the second wine-bag, which, that the wine might be cool, 
was kept hung upon a cork-tree. Supper being over, Sancho 
pressed his master to lay himself down in the goatherd's hut. 
He did so, and chivalrously passed the night in thinking of his 
lady Dulcinea. Sancho took up his lodging between Rozinante 
and his ass, and slept it out, not like a rejected lover, but like 
one who has been soundly thrashed. 




CHAPTER IV. 

Beaten with pack-staves — Takes the inn for a castle — Mishap 
at the inn — Balsam of Fierabras—Sancho tossed in a 
blanket. 

EXT morning they were up betimes, and, continuing 
their journey, came, about noonday, to a fine grassy 
meadow, near which a little brook of sparkling water 
ran so temptingly, that the knight determined to rest 
there during the heat of the day. So the two dismounted, 
turned Rozinante and the ass loose, and then sat down to see 
what Sancho's wallet could furnish for their dinner. 

Now it so happened that a drove of young horses belonging 
to some carriers were grazing in this same meadow, and Rozi- 
nante, who was somewhat peevish with the flies that had been 
feasting upon him, getting among them, treated them both to his 
teeth and his heels, in a way that their owners could not stand. 
So, running up, they laid on him with their pack-staves at such 
a rate as soon laid him flat, with girths broken and saddle any- 
where. Don Quixote and his squire, seeing this, came up out 
of breath, and the former said to Sancho, " By what I see, friend 
Sancho, these are no knights, but rascally people of a scoundrel 
race. I tell you this, because you may very well help me to 
take ample revenge for the outrage they have done to Rozinante 
before our eyes." — " Why, what revenge can we take," answered 
Sancho, " they being above twenty, and we no more than two — 
perhaps but one and a half?" — " I am as good as a hundred," 
replied Don Quixote. And, without saying more, he laid his hand 
on his sword, and flew at the carriers, and Sancho did the same, 



44 THE STORY OF DON QUIXOTE 

moved thereto by the example of his master. At the first blow 
Don Quixote gave one of them a terrible wound on the shoulder, 
through a leathern doublet which he wore. The carriers, seeing 
themselves assaulted in this manner by two men only, betook 
themselves to their clubs, and, hemming them in, began to be- 
labour them with all their might, knocking Sancho down first, 
and then his master, who fell just at Rozinante's feet. After 
this, the men, seeing the mischief they had done, loaded their 
beasts with all speed, and pursued their journey, leaving the two 
adventurers in evil plight. 

The first who came to himself was Sancho Panza, who, find- 
ing himself close to his master, with a feeble and plaintive voice, 
cried, " Signor Don Quixote ! ah, Signor Quixote ! " — " What 
would you have, brother Sancho?" answered Don Quixote, in 
the same feeble and lamentable tone. — " I could wish, if it were 
possible," answered Sancho Panza, " your worship would give 
me two draughts of that drink of Feo Blass, if you have it here 
at hand ; perhaps it may do as well for broken bones as it does - 
for wounds." — " Unhappy I, that we have it not !" answered 
Don Quixote. " But I swear to you, Sancho Panza, on the faith 
of a knight-errant, that, before two days pass (if fortune does not 
order it otherwise), I will have it in my power." — " But in how 
many days, do you think, sir, we shall recover the use of our 
feet ? " replied Sancho Panza. " For my part," said the battered 
knight, " I cannot limit the number ; but it is all my own fault, 
for I ought not to have laid hand on my sword against men who 
were not dubbed knights like myself. And therefore, I believe 
this chastisement has fallen upon me as a punishment for having 
transgressed the laws of chivalry. Wherefore, brother Sancho, 
when you see we are insulted by such rascally rabble, do not 
stay till I lay hand on my sword against them, for I will in no 
wise do it ; but do you draw your sword, and chastise them to 
your heart's content : but, if any knights shall come up to their 
assistance, I shall then know how to defend you and punish them." 

Sancho Panza did not much like this ; so replied, " Sir, I am 
a peaceable, tame, quiet man, and can dissemble any injury- 
whatsoever ; for I have a wife and children to maintain and 



AND HIS SQUIRE SANCHO PANZA. 45 

bring up : so that give me leave, sir, to tell you, just by way of 
hint, that I will upon no account draw my sword, either against 
peasant or against knight, and that, from this time forward, I 
forgive all injuries any one has done, or shall do me, or that any 
person is now doing, or may hereafter do me, whether he be high 
or low, rich or poor, gentle or simple, without excepting 'any 
state or condition whatever." Which his master hearing, an- 
swered, " I wish I had breath to talk a little at my ease, and 
that the pain I feel in this rib would cease ever so short a while, 
that I might convince you, Panza, of the error you are in. But 
.one thing I would have you understand is, that wounds which 
are given with instruments that are accidentally in one's hand, 
are no affront. And thus it is expressly written in the law of 
combat, that if a shoemaker strikes a person with the last he has 
in his hand, though it be really of wood, it will not therefore be 
said that the person thus beaten with it was cudgelled. I say 
this, that you may not think, though we are mauled in this 
scuffle, we are disgraced ; for the arms those men carried, 
wherewith they pounded us, were no other than their pack- 
staves, and none of them, as I remember, had either tuck, 
sword, or dagger." — "They gave me no leisure," answered 
Sancho, " to observe so narrowly ; for scarcely had I laid hand 
on my toasting-fork when they crossed my shoulders with their 
saplins, in such a manner that they deprived my eyes of sight 
and my feet of strength, laying me where I now lie, and where I 
am not so much concerned to think whether the business of the 
threshing be an affront or no, as I am troubled at the pain of 
the blows, which will leave as deep an impression in my memory 
as on my shoulders." — " All this notwithstanding, I tell you, 
brother Panza," replied Don Quixote, " there is no remembrance 
which time does not obliterate, nor pain which death does not 
put an end to." — " What greater misfortune can there be," re- 
plied Panza, " than that which remains till time effaces it and till 
death puts an end to it ? If this mischance of ours were of that 
sort which people cure with a couple of plasters, it would not be 
altogether so bad ; but, for aught I see, all the plasters of an 
hospital will not be sufficient to set us to rights again." 



46 - THE STORY OF DON QUIXOTE 

" Have done with this, Sancho," answered Don Quixote, " and 
let us see how Rozinante does ; for, by what I perceive, not the 
least part of this misfortune has fallen to the poor beast's share." 
— " That is not at all strange," answered Sancho, " since he also 
belongs to a knight-errant. But what I wonder at is, that my 
ass should come off scot-free, when we have paid so dear."-*— 
" Fortune always leaves some door open in disasters, whereby 
to come at a remedy," said Don Quixote. " I say this, because 
this poor beast may now supply the want of Rozinante, by 
carrying me hence to some castle, where I may be cured of my 
wounds. Nor do I take the being mounted in this fashion to 
be dishonourable ; for I remember to have read that the good 
old Silenus, governor and tutor of the merry god of laughter, 
when he made his entry into the city of the hundred gates, went 
riding, much to his satisfaction, on a most beautiful ass." — " It 
is like he rode as your worship says," answered Sancho ; " but 
there is a main difference between riding and lying athwart 
like a sack of rubbish." To which Don Quixote answered, 
" The wounds received in battle rather give honour than take it 
away ; so that, friend Panza, answer me no more, but, as I have 
already said to you, raise me up as well as you can, and place 
me in whatever manner you please upon your ass, that we may 
get hence before night comes on." — " Yet I have heard your 
worship say," said Panza, " that it is usual for knights-errant to 
sleep on heaths and deserts most part of the year, and that they 
look upon it to be very fortunate." — " That is," said Don Quixote, 
" when they cannot help it, or are in love. But let us have 
done with this, Sancho, and set off, before such another mis- 
fortune happens to the ass as hath befallen Rozinante." 

"That would be the mischief indeed," said Sancho. And 
sending forth thirty alas's, and sixty sighs, and a hundred and 
twenty blessings, wrong side out, on whosoever had brought 
him thither, he picked himself up, but stayed bent by the way 
like a bow, utterly unable to stand upright ; and so made a shift 
to saddle his ass. He then heaved up Rozinante, settled Don 
Quixote upon the ass, and tying Rozinante by the head to its 
tail, led them both by the halter toward the place where he 



AND HIS SQUIRE SANCHO PANZA. 47 

thought the road might lie. And he had scarce gone a short 
league, when fortune discovered to him the road, in which he 
espied an inn ; which, to his sorrow, and Don Quixote's joy, 
must needs be a castle. Sancho positively maintained it was 
an inn, and his master that it was a castle ; and the dispute 
lasted so long, that they had time to arrive there before it 
ended ; and without more ado, Sancho entered into it with his 
string of cattle. 

The innkeeper, seeing Don Quixote laid across the ass, in- 
quired of Sancho what ailed him ? Sancho answered him that 
it was nothing but a fall from a rock, whereby his ribs were 
somewhat bruised. The innkeeper had a wife who was natu- 
rally charitable, and touched with the misfortune of her neigh- 
bours ; so that she presently set herself to cure Don Quixote, 
and made her daughter assist her in the healing of her guest. 
There was also a servant in the inn, an ugly little humpbacked 
girl, called Maritornes, and among them they managed to put 
the knight into a wretched bed in a garret, where they plastered 
him from head to foot. The hostess, perceiving Don Quixote to 
be so full of bruises, said, " That they seemed to be rather marks 
of blows than of a fall." — " They were not blows," said Sancho ; 
" but the rock had many sharp points and knobs, and every one 
has left its mark." He said also, " Pray, forsooth, order it so 
that some tow may be left ; somebody else may have occasion 
for it, for my sides also ache a little." — " So then," said the 
hostess, " you have had a fall too." — " No fall," said Sancho 
Panza ; " but the fright I took at seeing my master fall has 
made my. body so sore that, methinks, I have received a thousand 
drubs." At this Don Quixote sat up in his bed as well as he 
could, and, taking the hostess by the hand, said to her, " Believe 
me, beauteous lady, you may reckon yourself happy in having 
lodged my person in this your castle, and such a person that, 
if I do not praise myself, it is because, as is commonly said, self- 
praise depreciates ; but my squire will inform you who I am. 
I only say that I shall retain the service you have done me 
eternally engraved in my memory, and be grateful to you whilst 
my life shall remain." 



48 THE STORY OF DON QUIXOTE 

The hostess, her daughter, and the good Maritornes, stood 
confounded at hearing our knight-errant talk in that fashion, 
and not being accustomed to such kind of language, stared 
at him; and so, thanking him, with i^n-like praise, left 
him. 

Don Quixote's hard, scanty,- beggarly, feeble bed stood just 
in the middle of that illustrious cock-loft ; and close by it stood 
Sancho's, which consisted only of a flag-mat and a rug that 
seemed to be rather of beaten hemp than of wool. Next these 
two stood a carrier's, made up of pack-saddles, and the trap- 
pings of two of his best mules. 

Now, it so chanced that when (as he thought) everybody in 
the inn was fast asleep, a young fellow, who had been playing 
truant at a neighbouring fair, crept in at an open window; and, 
feeling his way by the dim light of a lamp, that burned outside 
the loft where the travellers were, to his own bed, which was in 
the farthest corner of it, tumbled into the outstretched arms of 
Don Quixote, who, in one of his crazy fits, took the lad for some 
high-born princess come to rescue him from the treacherous 
lord of the castle where he had taken up his night's lodging. 
The lad, frightened that his master would be waked, and find 
him out, when a good flogging would be the best thing he got, 
struggled to free himself from the clutches of the knight ; who 
was pouring out a string of nonsense about the superlative 
beauty of his supposed deliverer. In doing so, he unluckily 
made noise enough to rouse the carrier, who jumped up between 
sleep and waking, and roaring out "murder," and "thieves," 
dealt Don Quixote a tremendous blow on the mouth ; and then, 
to make sure work of him, must needs skip up on the bed, and 
trample all over him so smartly, that bed and everything came 
down together with such a crash as brought up the landlord, a 
lighted candle in his hand, to see what was amiss. The lad 
tried to hide himself in Sancho's bed ; but Sancho, not liking 
his company, kicked and cuffed him most heartily, while the 
landlord was laying on him at the other side. The carrier, 
in a passion at being disturbed, fell upon Sancho, and in the 
middle of it, the candle going out, each one fought as hard as 



AND HIS SQUIRE SANCHO PANZA. 49 

ever he could ; whilst nobody knew where his own blow lighted, 
or who it was that pummelled him. 

There lodged by chance that night in the inn an officer of 
justice, who, likewise hearing the noise of the scuffle, caught 
up his wand, and the tin box that held his commission, and 
entering the room in the dark, cried out, " Forbear ! in the name 
of justice, forbear ! " The first he lighted on was the battered 
Don Quixote, who lay on his demolished bed, stretched upon 
his back, and quite senseless ; and laying hold of his beard as 
he was groping about, he cried out incessantly, "I charge you 
to aid and to assist me ;" but finding that the person he had laid 
hold of neither stirred nor moved, he concluded that he must be 
dead, and that the people within the room were his murderers ; 
with which suspicion he raised his voice still louder, crying, 
" Shut the inn-door, see that nobody gets out, for they have 
killed a man here." This voice startled them all so, that they 
stopped fighting in a moment. The landlord withdrew to his 
chamber, the carrier to his pack-saddles, and the lad to his 
straw ; only the unfortunate Don Quixote and Sancho could not 
stir from the place they were in. The officer now let go Don 
Quixote's beard, and went out to get a light, to search after and 
apprehend the delinquents. 

Meanwhile Don Quixote came to himself, and called to his 
squire, saying, " Sancho, friend, sleepest thou ? Sleepest thou, 
friend Sancho?" — "How should I sleep? woe is me!" an- 
swered Sancho, full of trouble and vexation. " I cannot but 
think a legion of imps have been in my company to-night." — 
" You may very well believe so," answered Don Quixote ; "and 
either I know little, or this castle is enchanted. For you must 
know, Sancho, that last night one of the most beautiful damsels 
in the world came to me, to deliver me out of the hands of the 
treacherous lord of this castle, whom I verily believe to be a 
dishonoured knight. But just as I was rising to follow her, 
comes a hand, fastened to the arm of a hideous giant, which 
hits me such a thump on the face, as caused my jaws to crack ; 
and afterwards pounded me in such sort, that I am in a worse 
case than yesterday, when the carriers did us the mischief 

D 



$0 THE STORY OF DON QUIXOTE 

you know. Whence I gather that this castle is guarded by 
some enchanted Moor." — " I should think so," said Sancho, 
" for more than four hundred Moors have cudgelled me in such 
a manner, that the basting of the pack-staves was tarts and 
cheese-cakes to it. But tell me, pray, sir, call you this an 
excellent and rare adventure, which has left us in such a pickle ? 
Woe is me. for I am no knight-errant, nor ever mean to be one ; 
and yet, of all the misadventures, the greater part still falls to 
my share." — " What ! have you been pounded too ? " answered 
Don Quixote. — " Have I not told you, yes ? Evil befall my 
lineage ! " said Sancho. — " Be in no pain, friend," answered 
Don Quixote ; ''for I will now make the precious balsam, with 
which we will cure ourselves in the' twinkling of an eye." By 
this time the officer had lighted his lamp, and came to see the 
person he thought was killed ; but finding the two communing 
in so calm a manner, stood in suspense. It is true, Don Quixote 
still lay flat on his back, without being able to stir, through 
mere pounding and plastering. The officer approached him 
and said, " How fares it, honest friend ? " — " I would speak more 
respectfully," answered Don Quixote, "were I in your place. 
Is it the fashion of this country to talk in this manner to knights- 
errant, blockhead?" The officer, seeing himself so ill-treated 
by one of so scurvy an appearance, could not bear it ; and, 
lifting up the brass lamp, with ail its oil, gave it Don Quixote 
over the pate in such sort, that he broke his head ; and, all 
being in the dark, he ran instantly out of the room. " Doubt- 
less, sir," said Sancho Panza, " this is the enchanted Moor ; 
and he reserves the treasure for others, and for us only blows 
and lamp-knocks." — " It is even so," answered Don Quixote ; ■ 
u and it is to no purpose to regard this business of enchant- 
ments, or to be out of humour or angry with them. Get you 
up, Sancho, if you can ; call the governor of this fortress ; and 
take care to get me some oil, wine, salt, and rosemary, to make 
the healing balsam ; for, in truth, I believe I want it very much 
at this time ; for the wound this phantom has given me bleeds 
very fast." 

Sancho got up, with pain enough of his bones, and went in 



AND HIS SQUIRE SANCHO PANZA. 5 1 

the dark towards the landlord's chamber ; and, meeting the 
officer, said to him, " Sir, whoever you are, do us the favour 
and kindness to help us to a little rosemary, oil, salt, and wine ; 
for they are wanted to cure one of the best knights-errant in 
the world, who lies in yon bed, sorely wounded by the hands 
of the enchanted Moor that is in this inn." The officer, hearing 
him talk at this rate, took him for one out of his senses ; and 
opening the inn-door, told the host what the honest man wanted. 
Having got the materials, Sancho carried them to his master, 
who mixed -and boiled them together for a good while ; after- 
wards pouring the liquid into an oil-flask, over which he muttered 
sundry mysterious words. This done, he drank about a pint and 
a half of it ; but, as might have been expected, the stuff disagreed 
with him immediately, and so violently, that he was obliged 
to be put to bed, where he slept for three hours, waking so 
much better, and in so much less pain from his bruises, that he 
doubted not his precious balsam had wrought the cure. As ill 
luck would have it, Sancho thought so too, and begging a dose 
from his master, pitched a full pint of it down his throat at one 
gulp. But the mess disagreed with the squire much worse than 
it had done with the knight ; and, in short, made him so ill, that 
he in truth believed that his last hour was come ; and his master, 
looking on his sad condition, said, " I verily believe, Sancho, 
that all this mischief has befallen you because you have not 
been dubbed a knight ; for I am of opinion that this liquor can 
do no good to those who are not." — " If your worship knew 
that, why, in the world, did you suffer me to drink it ? " replied 
Sancho. And with that hq became worse than ever. His 
master, however, feeling himself better, was in such haste to set 
out for further adventures, that, before Sancho was able to stir, 
he not only saddled his own horse, and his squire's ass, with 
his own hands, but helped his distressed servant to put on his 
clothes, and hoist himself on his beast. 

Both being mounted, and standing at the inn-door, Don 
Quixote called to the landlord, and gravely said to him, " Many 
and great are the favours, Signor Governor, which in this your 
castle I have received, and I remain under infinite obligations 



52 THE STORY OF DON QUIXOTE 

to acknowledge them all the days of my life. If I could make 
you a return by revenging you on any insolent, who has done 
you outrage, know that the duty of my profession is no other 
than to strengthen the w r eak, to revenge the injured, and to 
chastise the perfidious. Run over your memory, and if you 
find anything of this nature to recommend to me, you need only 
declare it ; for I promise you, by the order of knighthood I have 
received, to procure you satisfaction and amends to your heart's 
desire." The host answered with the same gravity, " Sir 
Knight, I have no need of your worship's avenging any wrong 
for me ; I can revenge myself, fast enough, if need be. I only 
desire your worship to pay me for what you have had in the 
inn, as well for the straw and barley for your two beasts as for 
your supper and lodging." — " What, then ! is this an inn ? " 
replied Don Quixote. — " And a very creditable one," answered 
the host. — " Hitherto, then, I have been in an error," answered 
Don Quixote ; " for, in truth, I took it for a castle ; but since 
it is so that it is no castle, but an inn, all that can now be 
done is, that you excuse the payment ; for I cannot act con- 
trary to the law of knights-errant, of whom I certainly know 
that they never paid for lodging, or anything else, in any inn 
where they have lain." — " Pay me what is my due," said the 
landlord, " and let us have none of your stories and knight- 
errantries ; for I make no account of anything, but how to 
come by my own." — " Thou art a blockhead, and a pitiful inn- 
keeper," answered Don Quixote. So clapping spurs to Rozi- 
nante, and brandishing his lance, he sallied out of the inn, 
without anybody's opposing him.; and, without looking to see 
whether his squire followed him or not, got a good way off. 

The host, seeing him go off without paying him, ran to seize on 
Sancho Panza, who said that, since his master would not pay, 
he would not pay either ; for, being squire to a knight-errant, 
the same rule held good for him as for his master, not to pay 
anything in public-houses and inns. The innkeeper grew 
very testy at this, and threatened him if he did not pay him, he 
would get it in a way he should be sorry for. Sancho swore, 
by the order of chivalry, which his master had received, that he 



AND HIS SQUIRE SANCHO PANZA. 53 

would not pay a single farthing, though it should cost him his 
life ; for the laudable and ancient usage of knights-errant 
should not be lost for him, nor should the squires of future 
knights have reason to complain of or reproach him for the 
breach of so just a right. 

Poor Sancho's ill luck would have it, that among those who 
were in the inn were some frolicsome fellows, who came up to 
him, and, dismounting him from the ass, one of them went in 
for the landlord's bed blanket ; then putting him therein, they 
looked up, and, seeing that the ceiling was somewhat too low 
for their work, determined to go out into the yard, which was 
bounded only by the sky. There Sancho being placed in the 
midst of the blanket, they began to toss him aloft, and to divert 
themselves with him, as with a dog at Shrovetide. The cries 
which the poor blanketed squire sent forth were so many and so 
loud that they reached his master's ears, who, stopping to listen 
attentively, believed that some new adventure was at hand, until 
he found plainly that he who cried was his servant ; so, turning 
the reins, he galloped up to the inn, and, finding it shut, rode 
round it to discover, if he could, an entrance. But he was scarce 
got to the wall of the yard, which was not very high, when he 
perceived the wicked sport they were making with his squire. 
He saw him ascend and descend through the air with so much 
grace and agility that, if his anger would have suffered him, he 
would have laughed. He tried to get from his horse upon the 
pales, but was so bruised and battered that he could not so much 
as alight ; so, as he sat, he began to utter so many reproaches 
and revilings against those who were tossing Sancho, as is im- 
possible to put down in writing. But- his tormentors did not 
therefore desist from their laughter nor their labour, nor did the 
flying Sancho forbear his complaints, mixed sometimes with 
menaces, sometimes with entreaties, until at last they left off for 
pure weariness. They then brought him his ass, and, wrapping 
him in his loose coat, mounted him thereon. The compas- 
sionate Maritornes, seeing him in such a plight, thought good 
to help him to a jug of water, which she fetched from the well, 
that it might be the cooler. Sancho took it, and, as he was 



54 THE STORY OF DON QUIXOTE. 

lifting it to his mouth, stopped at his masters calling to him 
aloud, " Son Sancho, drink not water ! child, do not drink it ; it 
will kill thee ! See here, I hold the precious balsam, by drink- 
ing but two drops of which you will doubtless be whole and 
sound again." At these words, Sancho turned up his eyes, and 
said, with a louder voice, " Perhaps you have forgot, sir, that I 
am no knight, or you would kill me outright. Keep your liquor, 
and let me alone." His ceasing to speak and beginning to 
drink was all in a moment ; but at the first sip, finding it was 
water, he would proceed no further, and prayed Maritornes to 
bring him some wine, which she did with a very good will, and 
paid for it with her own money. As soon as Sancho had done 
drinking, he fell a-kicking his ass, and the inn-gate being thrown 
wide open, out he went, extremely well satisfied that he had paid 
nothing, and had carried his point, though at the expense of his 
own bones. The landlord, indeed, had kept his wallets for pay- 
ment of what was due to him ; but Sancho never missed them, 
so confused was he at going off. 







CHAPTER V. 

Don Quixote attacks the flock of sheep — The f idling-hammers — 
Sancho " makes game" of his master, and suffers for it. 

ANCHO came up to his master, pale, and dispirited to 
that degree that he was not able to spur on his ass. 
Don Quixote, perceiving him in that condition, said, 
" Now am I convinced, honest Sancho, that that 
castle, or inn, is doubtless enchanted ; for they who so cruelly 
sported themselves with you, what could they be but hobgoblins 
and people of the other world ? And I am confirmed in this by 
having found that, when I stood at the pales of the yard behold- 
ing the acts of your sad tragedy, I could not possibly get over 
them, nor so much as alight from Rozinante, so that they must 
certainly have held me enchanted ; for I swear to you that, if I 
could have got over, or alighted, I would have avenged you in 
such a manner as would have made those poltroons and as- 
sassins remember the jest as long as they lived, though I knew 
I had transgressed the laws of chivalry thereby : for, as I have 
often told you, they do not allow a knight to lay hand on his 
sword against any one who is not so, unless it be in defence 
of his own life and person, and in case of urgent and extreme 
necessity." — " And I too," said Sancho, " would have revenged 
myself if I could, dubbed or not dubbed ; but I could not ; 
though I am of opinion that they who diverted themselves at my 
expense were no hobgoblins, but men of flesh and bones, as we 
are, for, while they were tossing me, each called the other by his 
proper name ; so that, sir, as to your not being able to leap over 
the pales, nor to alight from your horse, the fault lay in some- 



$6 THE STORY OF DON QUIXOTE 

thing else, and not in enchantment. And what I gather clearly 
from all this is, that these adventures we are in quest of will at 
the long run bring us into so many misadventures that we shall 
not know which is our right foot. So that, in my poor opinion, 
the better and surer way would be to return to our village, now 
that it is reaping- time, and look after our business, and not run 
rambling from pillar to post, leaping out of the frying-pan into 
the fire." 

" How little do you know, Sancho," answered Don Quixote, 
" what belongs to chivalry ! The day will come when you will 
see with your eyes how honourable a thing it is to follow this 
profession ; for, tell me, what greater satisfaction can there be 
in the world than that of winning a battle and triumphing over 
one's enemy ?" — " It may be so," answered Sancho, " though I 
do not know it. I only know that since we have been knights- 
errant we have never won any battle except that of the Biscainer, 
and even there you came off with the loss of half an ear and half 
a helmet ; and from that day to this we have had nothing but 
drubbings upon drubbings, cuffs upon cuffs, beside my blanket- 
tossing into the bargain, and that by persons enchanted, on 
whom I cannot revenge myself." — " That is what troubles me," 
answered Don Quixote ; " but henceforward I will endeavour to 
have ready at hand a sword, made by such art that no kind of 
enchantment can touch him that wears it. And perhaps fortune 
may procure me that of Amadis, ' Knight of the burning Sword ;' 
for it cut like a razor, and no armour, though ever so strong or 
ever so much enchanted, could stand against it." — " I am so 
fortunate," said Sancho, "that, though you should find such a 
sword, it would be of service only to those who are dubbed 
knights, like the balsam ; as for the poor squires, they may sing 
sorrow." — "Fear not that, Sancho," said Don Quixote; "Heaven 
will deal more kindly by thee !" 

Don Quixote and his squire went on thus conferring together, 
when the former saw a great and thick cloud of dust coming to- 
wards them, and, turning to Sancho, said, " This is the day, O 
Sancho, wherein will be seen the good that fortune has in store 
for me, and in which I shall perform such exploits as shall re- 



AND HIS SQUIRE SANCHO PANZA. 57 

main written in the book of fame to all succeeding ages. Scest 
thou yon cloud of dust, Sancho ? It is raised by a prodigious 
army of divers and innumerable nations who are on the march 
this way." — " Then there must be two armies," said Sancho ; 
" for on this opposite side there arises such another cloud of 
dust." Don Quixote turned to view it, and, seeing it was so, 
rejoiced exceedingly, taking it for granted they were two armies 
coming to eifgage in the midst of that spacious plain. Now the 
cloud of dust he saw was raised by two great flocks of sheep, 
going the same road from different parts ; and the dust hindered 
them from being seen until they came near. But Don Quixote 
affirmed with so much positiveness that they were armies, that 
Sancho began to believe it, and said, " Sir, what then must we 
do?" — "What !" replied Don Quixote, " but favour and assist the 
weaker side. Now, you must know, Sancho, that these armies 
are led by two mighty monarchs, and they are about to engage 
because tfhe one, who is a Christian, will not give his daughter 
to the other, who is a pagan, unless he will renounce his false 
faith." — " By my beard," said Sancho, "he is in the right ; and 
I am resolved to assist him to the utmost of my power." — " In 
so doing you will do your duty, Sancho," said Don Quixote ; 
" for, in order to engage in such fights, it is not necessary to 
be dubbed a knight." — " I easily comprehend that," answered 
Sancho ; " but where shall we dispose of this ass, that we may- 
be sure to find him when the fray is over ? for I believe it was 
never yet the fashion to go to battle upon such a kind of beast." 
— " You are in the right," said his master ; " but let him take his 
chance, whether he be lost or not ; for we shall have such choice 
of horses after the victory, that Rozinante himself will run a risk 
of being trucked for another. But listen whilst I give you an 
account of the principal knights of both the armies." There- 
upon he began, with a loud voice, to describe the advancing 
hosts, and that with marvellous distinctness, seeing they existed 
nowhere but in his own head. Such knights, su^. armour, such 
arms (including one of the gates of Gaza, the temple pulled down 
by Samson), did he turn as glibly off his tongue as though 
he were reading a muster-roll. There was the parti-coloured 



^ 



58 THE STORY OF DON QUIXOTE 

knight, bearing on his shield a cat, with a scroll inscribed 
MlAU — being the first syllable of Miaulina, the name of his 
peerless lady-love. Then the dark knight, in black armour, 
whose device was a spit, thrust through a joint of meat proper — 
as the heralds say — with the motto, " It burns, if it stands ; " 
which was explained by him to signify that the very life of the 
bearer would be consumed by love for his lady, were he not con- 
tinually engaged in deeds of prowess. To which' were added 
numbers of others, upon whom he bestowed devices of the most 
astounding character, and the longest possible names. And 
thus he went maundering on, bespattering Sancho with such an 
amount of learning of all kinds as nearly turned the brain of his 
faithful squire, who looked this way and that way, but seeing 
nothing of either knights or giants, took for granted his master 
was demented, especially when the latter, setting his lance in its 
rest, clapped spurs to Rozinante, and darted down the hillock 
like lightning. Sancho cried out to him, " Hold, Signor Don 
Quixote, come back ! They are lambs and sheep you are going 
to encounter ; pray come back ! What madness is this ? Look, 
there is neither giant, nor knight, nor cats, nor arms, nor shields 
quartered nor entire. Sinner that I am ! what are you aboct ?" 
For all this, Don Quixote turned not again, but still went on, 
crying aloud, "Ho! knights, follow me all, and you shall see 
with how much ease I revenge the Christian on his pagan ad- 
versary ! " 

Saying thus, he rushed into the midst of the squadron of 
sheep, and began to attack them with his lance as courageously 
and intrepidly as if in good earnest he was engaging his mortal 
enemies. The shepherds and herdsmen who came with the 
flocks called out to him to desist ; but, seeing it was to no pur- 
pose, they unbuckled their slings, and began to let drive about 
his ears with stones as big as one's fist. Don Quixote did not 
mind the stones, but, running about on all sides, cried out, 
" Where art thou, proud pagan ? Present thyself before me ! I 
am a single knight, desirous to prove thy valour hand to hand, 
and to punish thee with the loss of life for the wrong thou doest." 
At that instant came a large pebble-stone, and struck him such 



AND HIS SQUIRE SANCHO PANZA. 59 

a blow on the side that it buried a couple of his ribs in his body. 
Finding himself thus ill-treated, he believed for certain he was 
slain, or sorely wounded, and, remembering his liquor, pulled 
out his cruse, set it to his mouth, and began to let some go 
down ; but before he could swallow what he thought sufficient, 
comes another of those nuts, and hits him so full on the hand 
and on the cruse, that it dashed it to pieces, carrying off three 
or four of his teeth by the way, and grievously bruising two of 
his fingers. Such was the first blow and such the second, that 
the poor knight tumbled from his horse to the ground. The 
shepherds ran to him, and verily believing they had killed him, 
in all haste got their flock together, took up their dead — which 
were about seven — and marched off without further inquiry. 

All this while Sancho stood upon the hillock, tearing his 
beard, and cursing the unfortunate hour and moment that ever 
he knew his master. But seeing him fallen to the ground, and 
the shepherds already gone off, he descended from the hillock, 
ran to him, and finding him in a very ill plight, said to him, 
" Did I not desire you, Signor Don Quixote, to come back, for 
those you went to attack were a flock of sheep, and not an army 
of men?" — "How easily," replied Don Quixote, "can that 
thief of an enchanter, my enemy, make things appear or dis- 
appear ! You must know, Sancho, that it is a very easy matter 
for such to make us seem what they please ; and this malignant, 
who persecutes me, has transformed the hostile squadrons into 
flocks of sheep. However, Sancho, get upon your ass, follow 
them fair and softly, and you will find that when they are a 
little farther off, they will return to their first form, and, ceasing 
to be sheep, will become men, proper and tall, as I described 
them at first. But do not go now, for I want your help and 
assistance." 

Hereupon he got up, and, laying his left hand on his mouth, 
with the other laid hold on Rozinante's bridle, who had not 
stirred from his master's side, and went where his squire stood, 
leaning his breast on his ass, and his cheek on his hand, in the 
posture of a man overwhelmed with thought. Don Quixote, 
seeing him in that guise, said, " Know, Sancho, that one man is 



60 THE STORY OF DON QUIXOTE 

no more than another, unless he does more than another. ^All 
these storms that fall upon us, are signs that the weather will 
clear up, and things will go smoothly; for it is impossible that 
either evil or good should be durable ; and hence it follows 
that, the evil having lasted long, the good cannot be far off. So 
that you ought not to afflict yourself for the mischances that 
befall me, since you have no share in them." — " How ! no share 
in them ?" answered Sancho. " Peradventure he they tossed in 
a blanket yesterday was not my father's son, and the wallets I 
miss to--day, with all my movables, are somebody's else ! " — 
" What ! are the wallets missing, Sancho ? " said Don Quixote. 
" Yes, they are," answered Sancho. " Then we have nothing to 
eat to-day?" replied Don Quixote. " It would be so," answered 
Sancho, " if these fields did not produce those herbs, you say 
you know, with which such unlucky knights-errant as your 
worship are wont to supply the like necessities." — " For all that," 
answered Don Quixote, " at this time I would rather have a 
slice of bread, and a couple of heads of salt pilchards, than all 
the herbs described by Dioscorides, though commented upon 
by Dr Laguna himself. But, good Sancho, get upon your ass 
and follow me ; for God, who is the provider of all things, will 
not fail us, since he does not fail the gnats of the air, the worm- 
lings of the earth, or the froglings of the water ; and so merci- 
ful is he, that he makes his sun to shine upon the good and the 
bad, and causes rain to fall upon the just and unjust." — " Your 
worship," said Sancho, "would make a better preacher than a 
knight-errant."— " Sancho," said Don Quixote, "the knights- 
errant ever did and must know something of everything ; and 
there have been knights-errant in times past, who would make 
sermons as well as if they had taken their degrees in the Univer- 
sity of Paris; whence we may infer that the lance never blunted 
the pen, nor the pen the lance." — "Well, let it be as your 
worship says !" answered Sancho; "but let us begone hence, 
and endeavour to get a lodging to-night where there are neither 
blankets nor blanket-heavers, nor hobgoblins nor enchanted 
Moors ; for if there be, I '11 none of it ! "— " Child," said Don 
Quixote, "conduct me whither thou wilt; but reach hither your 



AND HIS SQUIRE SANCHO PANZA. 6l 

hand, and feel with your finger how many grinders I want on 
the right side of my upper jaw, for there I feel the pain." 
Sancho put in his fingers, and, feeling about, said, " How many 
did your worship use to have on this side ? " — " Four," answered 
Don Quixote. " Take care what you say, sir," answered 
Sancho. " I say four, if not five," replied Don Quixote; "for 
in my whole life I never drew tooth nor grinder, nor have I ever 
lost one." — "Well then," said Sancho, " on this lower side your 
worship has but two grinders and a half, and in the upper 
neither half nor whole."—" Unfortunate that I am!" said Don 
Quixote, hearing the sad news his squire told him ; " I had 
rather they had torn off an arm, provided it were not the sword- 
arm ; for, Sancho, you must know that a mouth without 
grinders is like a mill without a stone, and a diamond is not so 
precious as a tooth. iBut all this we are subject to who profess 
the strict order bTchivalry. Mount, friend Sancho, and lead 
on ; for I will follow thee what pace thou wilt." Sancho did so, 
and went toward trhe place where he thought to find a lodging, 
without going out of the high-road, which was thereabouts very 
much frequented. 

Thus going along, the night dark, the squire hungry, and the 
master with a good appetite, they met a company of travellers, 
whom our knight, taking for granted they were wrong-doers 
whom he was bound to punish, immediately attacked ; spur- 
ling among them, lance in hand, wounding one, upsetting 
another, and making the rest take to their heels as though they 
had wings, to the great delight of Sancho, who immediately 
threw himself upon one of the baggage mules, transferring all 
the eatables it carried into a bag which he hastily made of his 
cloak. In truth, they were a company of harmless folk, and 
Don Quixote, being convinced of this, was sorry enough for 
having harmed them ; though he assured the sufferers it was en- 
tirely their own fault, for travelling in such guise as that he 
took them for evil-doers, whom, by the laws of knight-errantry, 
he was under the necessity of attacking. Sancho improved 
upon his master's discourse by bidding one of the travellers tell 
his comrades that he by whom they had been routed was Don 



62 THE STORY OF DON QUIXOTE 

Quixote de la Mancha, otherwise called " The Knight of the 
Sorrowful Figure." The title pleased Don Quixote, as he re- 
membered how knights of old were wont to take to themselves 
such surnames, one calling himself the " Knight of the Burning 
Sword ; " another, " he of the Unicorn," and so on ; and he 
told Sancho that from that day he purposed to call himself the 
" Knight of the Sorrowful Figure," as also, as soon as possible, 
to have a most sorrowful figure painted on his shield. " You 
need not spend any time and money in getting this figure 
made," said Sancho ; " your worship has only to show your own, 
and present yourself to be looked at." Then driving on his ass 
before him, he desired his master to follow ; who, thinking 
Sancho in the right, followed without replying. They had not 
gone far between two little hills, when they found themselves 
in a spacious and retired valley, where they alighted. Sancho 
disburdened the ass ; and lying along on the green grass, with 
hunger for sauce, they despatched their breakfast, dinner, after- 
noon's luncheon, and supper all at once, regaling their palates 
with more than one cold mess which the travellers had brought 
with them on the sumpter-mule. But another mishap befell 
them, which Sancho took for the worst of all ; which was, that 
they had no wine, nor so much as water, to drink ; and being 
very thirsty, he, perceiving the meadow they were in covered 
with green and fine grass, said to his master, that if they went 
a little farther, they would, without doubt, find some spring or 
brook where they might quench their thirst. So they set off, 
Sancho leading his ass, on which he had placed the relics of 
their supper, and Don Quixote taking Rozinante by the bridle. 
As they felt their way [for the night was too dark for them to 
see anything], a sound, as of some mighty cascade pouring down, 
met their ears, and rejoiced them not a little. But after that 
came a dreadful din, as of irons and chains rattling, and heavy 
blows given in measured time, which would have struck terror 
into the heart of any one but Don Quixote, who leaped upon his 
horse, braced on his buckler, brandished his lance, and telling 
Sancho that if he did not return in three days' time, he must 
repair to Toboso, and say to the Lady Dulcinea that her knight 



AND HIS SQUIRE SANCHO PANZA. 63 

had died in attempting a feat worthy of her, was for dashing at 
once, pitch-dark as it was, at the enemy, but stayed to bid his 
squire tighten Rozinante r s girths. Honest Sancho finding that 
tears and entreaties could not stop his master on this mad 
errand, or induce him to wait until daylight, thought fit to carry 
his point by means of a trick, contriving, while straining at the 
girths, to tie Rozinante's hinder feet together with the ass's 
halter, so that, spite of spurring, he could only move in little 
jumps. This made his rider desperate ; but seeing that the 
more he spurred, the less he could move his steed, he at length 
gave it up, and prepared to remain where he was for the night, 
or until Rozinante recovered the proper use of his legs. 

Sancho, in abject terror, stuck close to his master until day- 
break, when, unperceived, he managed to loose the halter, and 
Don Quixote, feeling that his horse was at last free, spurred 
forward, followed by his squire on foot, leading the ass. They 
went thus some distance among the tall, shady chestnut trees, 
until they came to a little green spot at the foot of some steep 
rocks, from whose summit leaped a mighty torrent. At their 
feet were several miserable huts, from amongst which issued 
the horrid sounds that had scared them the night before ; and 
creeping on a little farther (Don Quixote invoking the aid of 
his Dulcinea in this peril), they came plump upon the cause of 
it all. It was neither more nor less than six fulling-hammers, 
worked by the falling stream, that had produced those hideous 
noises ; and at sight of them the knight was struck dumb, in 
utter confusion. 

Sancho looked at him, and saw he hung down his head with 
manifest indications of being quite abashed. Don Quixote 
looked also at Sancho, and t;aw his cheeks swollen, and his 
mouth full of laughter, with evident signs of being ready to 
burst with it ; and notwithstanding his vexation, he could not 
forbear laughing himself at sight of his squire, who, seeing his 
master had led the way, burst out in so violent a manner, that 
he was forced to hold his sides with his hands, to save himself 
from splitting with laughter. Four times he ceased, and four 
times he returned to his laughter, with the same impetuosity as 



64 THE STORY OF DON QUIXOTE 

at first. Whereat Don Quixote gave himself up, especially 
when he heard his squire say, by way of irony, " You must 
know, friend Sancho, that I was born, by the will of Heaven, in 
this our age of iron, to revive in it the golden, or that of gold. 
I am he for whom are reserved dangers, great exploits, and 
valorous achievements ! " And so he went on repeating most 
or all of the expressions which Don Quixote had used at the 
first hearing those dreadful strokes. Don Quixote, perceiving 
that Sancho played upon him, grew so ashamed, and enraged to 
that degree, that he lifted up his lance and discharged two such 
blows on him, that, had he received them on his head, as he 
did on his shoulders, the knight had acquitted himself of the 
payment of his wages, unless it were to his heirs. Sancho find- 
ing he paid so dearly for his jokes, and fearing lest his master 
should proceed further, cried out with much humility, il Pray, 
sir, be pacified ; for indeed I did but jest." — " Though you jest, 
I do not," answered Don Quixote. " Come hither, merry 
sir, what think you ? Suppose these mill-hammers had been 
some perilous adventure, have I not showed you the courage 
requisite to undertake and achieve it? Am I, think you, 
obliged, being a knight as I am, to distinguish sounds, and 
know which are, or are not, of a fulling-mill ? Besides, it may 
be, as it really is, that I never saw any fulling-mills in my life, 
as thou hast, like a pitiful rustic as thou art, having been born 
and bred amongst them. But let these six fulling-hammers be 
transformed into six giants, and let them beard me one by one, 
or altogether, and if I do not set them all on their heads, then 
make what jest you will of me." — " It is enough, good sir," re- 
plied Sancho ; " I confess I have been a little too jocose ; but 
pray tell me, now that it is peace between us, was it not a thing 
to be laughed at, and worth telling, what great fear we were in, 
at least what I was in ? for as to your worship, I know you are 
unacquainted with it, nor do you know what fear or terror is." 
— " I do not deny," answered Don Quixote, " but that what has 
befallen us is fit to be laughed at, but not fit to be told, for all 
persons are not discreet enough to know how to take things by 
the right handle." — " But," answered Sancho, "your worship knew 



AND HIS SQUIRE SANCHO PANZA. 6$ 

how to handle your lance aright, when you pointed it at my 
head, and hit me on the shoulders ; thanks to my own agility in 
slipping aside. But let that pass, for I have heard say, ' He loves 
thee well who makes thee weep : ' and besides, your people of 
condition, when they have given a servant a hard word, presently 
give him some old hose and breeches ; though what is usually 
given after a beating, I cannot tell, unless it be that your knights- 
errant, after bastinadoes, bestow islands, or kingdoms on the 
continent." — " The die may run so," said Don Quixote, " thai 
all you have said may come to pass ; so forgive what is past, 
since you are considerate ; and henceforward know one thing 
(that you may abstain and forbear talking too much with me), 
that, in all the books of chivalry I ever read, infinite as they are, 
I never found that any squire conversed so much with his 
master as you do with yours. And really, I account it a great 
fault both in you and in me : in you, because you respect me 
so little ; in me, that I do not make myself respected more. 
Was not Gandalin, squire to Amadis de Gaul, earl of the firm 
island ? and we read of him, that he always spoke to his master 
cap in hand, his head inclined, and his body bent after the 
Turkish fashion. From what I have said, you may infer, 
Sancho, that there ought to be a difference between master and 
man, and between knight and squire. So that from this day 
forward we must be treated with more respect, for which way 
soever I am angry with you, it will go ill with the pitcher. The 
favours and benefits I promised you will come in due time ; 
and, if they do not come, the wages, at least, as I have told 
you, will not be lost." — " Your worship says very well," answered 
Sancho ; " but I would fain know (if perchance the time of the 
favours should not come, and it should be expedient to have 
recourse to the article of the wages) how much might the squire 
of a knight-errant get in those times ? and whether they agreed 
by the month, or by the day, like labourers ? " — " I do not be- 
lieve," answered Don Quixote, "that those squires were at stated 
wages, but relied on courtesy. And if I have appointed you 
any, in the will I left sealed at home, it was for fear of what 
might happen ; for I cannot yet tell you how chivalry may suc- 

E 



66 THE STORY OF DON QUIXOTE. 

ceed in these calamitous times of ours ; and I would not have 
my soul suffer in the other world for a trifle ; for I would have 
you to know, Sancho, that there is no state more perilous than 
that of adventures." — " It is so, in truth," said Sancho, " since the 
noise of the hammers of a fulling-mill were sufficient to disturb 
and discompose the heart of so valorous a knight as your wor- 
ship. But you may depend upon it, that from henceforward I 
shall not open my lips to make merry with your worship's mat- 
ters, but shall honour you as my master and natural lord." — 
"By so doing," replied Don Quixote, " your days shall be long 
in the land ; for next to our parents we are bound to respect our 
masters, as if they were our fathers." 




CHAPTER VI. 

Mambrinds helmet — Adventure of the galley-slaves — Sancho s 
ass stolen from under him. 

BOUT this time it began to rain a little, and Sancho 
had a mind they should betake themselves to the 
fulling-mills. But Don Quixote had conceived such 
an abhorrence of them that he would by no means 
go in ; so they struck into another road like that they had 
lighted upon the day before. Soon after, Don Quixote dis- 
covered a man on horseback, who had on his head something 
which glittered, as if it had been of gold ; and scarce had he 
seen it, but turning to Sancho, he said, "I am of opinion, 
Sancho, there is no proverb but what is true ; especially that 
which says, 'When one door is shut, another is opened.' I 
say this, because if fortune last night shut the door against 
what we looked for, deceiving us with the fulling-mills, it now 
sets another wide open for a better and more certain adventure, 
which if I fail to enter right into, the fault will be mine, without 
imputing it to my little knowledge of fulling-mills, or to the 
darkness of the night. This I say, because, if I mistake not, 
there comes one toward us who carries on his head Mambrino's 
helmet, about which I swore the oath, you know." — " Take 
care, sir, what you say, and more what you do," said Sancho, 
" for I would not wish for other fulling-mills, to finish the mill- 
ing and mashing our senses." — " What in the world " replied 
Don Quixote, " has a helmet to do with fulling-mills ? " — " I 
know not," answered Sancho ; " but, if I might talk as much as 
I used to do, perhaps I might give such reasons that your wor- 



68 THE STORY OF DON QUIXOTE 

ship would see you are mistaken in what you say."—" How can 
I be mistaken in what I say, scrupulous traitor ? " said Don 
Quixote. " Tell me, seest thou not yon knight coming toward 
us on a dapple-gray steed, with a helmet of gold on his head ? " — 
" What I see," answered Sancho, " is only a man on a gray ass, 
like mine, with something on his head that glitters." — " Why, 
that is Mambrino's helmet," said Don Quixote. " Get aside, 
and leave me alone to deal with him ; and the helmet 1 have so 
much longed for shall be my own." — " I shall take care to get 
out of the way," replied Sancho ; " but I pray God, I say again, it 
may not prove another fulling-mill adventure." — " I have already 
told you, brother, not to mention those fulling-mills, nor so 
much as to think of them, any more," said Don Quixote. " If 
you do, I say no more, but I vow to mill your soul for you." 
Sancho held his peace, fearing lest his master should perform 
his vow, which had struck him all of a heap. 

Now, the truth of the matter concerning the helmet, the 
steed, and the knight, which Don Quixote saw, was this : 
There were two villages in that neighbourhood, one of them so 
small, that it had neither shop nor barber, but the other ad- 
joining to it had both, and the barber of the bigger served also 
the lesser, in which some persons wanted him ; and for this 
purpose was the barber coming, bringing with him his brass 
basin. Fortune so ordered it that, as he was upon the road, it 
began to rain ; so, that his hat might not be spoiled (for it was 
a new one), he clapped the basin on his head, and, being new 
scoured, it glittered half a league off. He rode on a gray ass, 
as Sancho said, and this was the reason why Don Quixote took 
the barber for a knight, his ass for a dapple-gray steed, and his 
basin for a golden helmet : for he very readily adapted what- 
ever he saw to his knightly extravagancies and wild conceits. 
And when he saw the poor cavalier approach, without staying 
to reason the case with him, he advanced at Rozinante's best 
speed, and couched his lance low, designing to run him through 
and through. But when he came up to him, without checking 
the fury of his career, he cried out, " Defend yourself, caitiff, or 
surrender willingly what is so justly my due ! " The barber, 



A 




S, M 




jjm fs 



:c. 



w!&!^.. 



AND HIS SQUIRE SANCHO PANZA. 69 

who saw this phantom coming upon him, had no other way to 
avoid the thrust of the lance, but to let himself fall down from 
the ass ; and no sooner had he touched the ground than, leap- 
ing up nimbler than a roebuck, he began to scour over the 
plain with such speed that the wind could not overtake him. 
He left the basin on the ground, with which Don Quixote was 
satisfied ; and saying the miscreant had acted discreetly, 
ordered Sancho to take up the helmet, who, holding it in his 
hand, vowed the basin was a special one, and as well worth a 
crown as a farthing. Then he gave it to his master, who im- 
mediately clapped it on his head, twirling it about to find the 
visor ; and not finding it, he said, " Doubtless the pagan for 
whom this famous helmet was first forged must have had a 
prodigious large head; and the worst of it is, that one half is 
wanting." When Sancho heard the basin called a helmet, he 
could not forbear laughing ; but, recollecting his master's late 
anger, stopped short. " What dost thou laugh at, Sancho ? " 
said Don Quixote. He answered, " I laugh to think what a 
huge head the pagan had who owned this helmet, which is, for 
all the world, just like a barber's basin." — " Knowest thou, 
Sancho, what I take to be the case ? This enchanted helmet, 
by some strange accident, must have fallen into the hands of 
one who, being ignorant of its true value, seeing it to be of the 
purest gold, has melted down the one half for lucre's sake, and 
of the other half made this which, as you say, does look like a 
barber's basin. But to me it signifies nothing, for I will get it 
put to rights in the first town where there is a smith ; in the 
meantime, I will wear it as I can, for something is better than 
nothing, and the rather, since it will be more than sufficient to 
defend me from stones." — " It will so," said Sancho, " if they 
do not throw" them with slings, as they did in the battle of the 
two armies, when they crossed your worship's chops, and broke 
the cruse in which was contained that most blessed drench." — 
" I am in no great pain for having lost it ; for you know, 
Sancho," said Don Quixote, " I have the receipt by heart." — 
" So have I too," answered Sancho ; " but if I ever make or 
try it again while I live, may I never stir from this place. Be- 



yo THE STORY OF DON QUIXOTE 

sides, I do not intend to expose myself to the hazard of stand- 
ing in need of it ; for I intend to keep myself, with all my five 
senses, from being wounded, or from wounding anybody. As 
to being tossed again in a blanket, I say nothing ; for it is 
difficult to prevent such mishaps ; and if they do come, there is 
nothing to be done, but to shrug up one's shoulders, hold one's 
breath, shut one's eyes, and let one's self go whither fortune 
and the blanket pleases to toss one." — " You are no good 
Christian, Sancho," said Don Quixote, " for you never forget an 
injury once done you. What leg have you lamed, what rib, or 
what head have you broken, that you cannot yet forget that jest ? 
for, to take the thing right, it was mere jest and pastime ; and, 
had I not understood it so, I had long ago returned thither, 
and done more mischief in revenging your quarrel, than the 
Greeks did for the rape of Helen." — " Let it then pass for a jest," 
said Sancho, " since it is not likely to be revenged in earnest : 
but I know of what kinds the jests and the earnest were." 

" But, setting this aside, tell me, sir, what we shall do with 
this dapple-gray steed, which looks so like a gray ass, and which 
that caitiff, whom your worship overthrew, has left behind here 
to shift for itself; for, to judge by his scouring off so hastily, 
and flying for it, he does not think of ever returning for him ; 
and Dapple is a special one." — " It is not my custom," said Don 
Quixote, " to plunder those I overcome, nor is it the usage of 
chivalry to take from them their horses, and leave them on foot, 
unless the victor hath lost his own in the conflict. Therefore, 
Sancho, leave this horse, or ass, or what you will have it to be ; for, 
when his owner sees us gone a pretty way off, he will come again 
for him." — " Goodness knows whether it were better for me to 
take him," replied Sancho, " or, at least, to truck mine for him, 
which, methinks, is not so good. Verily the laws of chivalry are 
very, strict, since they do not extend to the swapping one ass for 
another ; and I would fain know whether I might exchange 
furniture, if I had a mind." — " I am not very clear as to that 
point," answered Don Quixote ; " but, in case of doubt, until 
better information can be had, I say, you may truck, if you are 
in extreme want of them." — " So extreme," replied Sancho, 



AND HIS SQUIRE SANCHO PANZA. 7 1 

"that I could not want them more, if they were for my own proper 
person." And so saying, he proceeded with that licence to an ex- 
change of caparisons, and made his own beast three parts in four 
the better for his new furniture. This done, they breakfasted on 
the remains of the plunder of the sumpter-mule, and drank of 
the water of the fulling-mills, without turning their faces to look 
at them, such was their abhorrence of them for the fright they 
had put them in. Their anger and hunger being thus allayed, 
they mounted, and, without resolving to follow any particular 
road, put on whithersoever Rozinante's will led him, which 
drew after it that of his master, and also that of the ass, which 
followed, in love and good fellowship, wherever he led the way. 
Notwithstanding which, they soon turned again into the great 
road, which they followed at a venture, without any other design. 
As they thus sauntered on, Sancho ventured to represent to 
his master sundry dissatisfactions which he felt at the knight's 
going about in quest of adventures where, however great was 
the prowess displayed, there was no one to behold, or reward it ; 
in short, that he feared such doings would never lead to his own 
reward, be it that of governor, or earl, or whatever his master 
might be pleased to bestow upon him. Don Quixote considered 
this matter with much gravity, and ended by assuring his squire 
that all would be well arranged. When he himself became a 
king, he could easily confer nobility upon his squire, whom, in 
creating him an earl, he, of course, made a gentleman — one who 
must be called " your lordship," whether people liked it or not. 
"Do you think," said Sancho, "I should know how to give 
authority to the indignity?" — "Dignity, you should say, and 
not indignity," said his master. " So let it be," answered 
Sancho Panza ; " I say, I should do well enough with it, for I 
assure you I was once beadle of a company, and the beadle's 
gown became me so well, that everybody said I had a presence 
fit to be warden of the said company. Then what will it be 
when I am arrayed in a duke's robe, all shining with gold and 
pearls, like a foreign count ? I am of opinion folks will come a 
hundred leagues to see me." — " You will make a goodly appear- 
ance, indeed," said Don Quixote ; " but it will be necessary to 



72 THE STORY OF DON QUIXOTE 

trim your beard a little oftener, for it is so rough and frowsy, 
that if you do not shave with a razor every other day at least, 
you will discover what you are a musket-shot off." — " Why," 
said Sancho, " it is but taking a barber into the house, and, if 
there be occasion, I will make him follow me like a gentleman 
of the horse to a grandee." — " How came you to know," de- 
manded Don Quixote, " that grandees have their gentlemen of the 
horse to follow them ? " — " I will tell you," said Sancho. " Some 
years ago I was about the court for a month, and there I saw a 
very little gentleman riding backward and forward, who, they 
said, was a very great lord ; a man followed him on horseback, 
turning about as he turned, that one would have thought he 
had been his tail. I asked why that man did not ride by the 
other's side, but kept always behind him ? They answered me, 
that it was his gentleman of the horse, and that noblemen com- 
monly have such to follow them ; and from that day to this I 
have never forgotten it." — " You are in the right," said Don 
Quixote ; " and in the same manner you may carry about your 
barber. You may be the first earl who carried about his barber 
after him ; and, indeed, it is a greater trust to shave the beard 
than to saddle a horse." — " Leave the business of the barber to 
my care," said Sancho ; " and let it be your worship's to procure 
yourself to be a king, and to make me an earl." — " So it shall 
be," answered Don Quixote ; and, lifting up his eyes, he saw 
coming on, in the same road, about a dozen men on foot, strung 
like beads in a row by the necks, in a great iron chain, and all 
hand-cuffed. There came also with them two men on horse- 
back, and two on foot ; those on horseback armed with firelocks, 
and those on foot with pikes and swards. Sancho Panza espying 
them, said, " This is a chain of galley-slaves, persons forced by 
the king to the galleys." — " How ! persons forced ?" quoth Don 
Quixote ; " is it possible the king should force anybody?" — " I 
say not so," answered Sancho ; "but that they are persons con- 
demned by the law for their crimes to serve the king in the 
galleys per force." — " In short," replied Don Quixote, " however 
it be, still they are going by force, and not with their own 
liking." — " It is so," said Sancho. " Then," said his master, 



AND HIS SQUIRE SANCHO PANZA. 73 

"here the execution of my office takes place, to defeat violence, 
and to succour and relieve the miserable." — " Consider, sir," 
answered Sancho, " that justice, that is, the king himself, does 
no violence or injury to such persons, but only punishes them 
for their crimes." 

By this, the chain of galley-slaves was come up ; and Don 
Quixote, in most courteous terms, desired of the guard that 
they would be pleased to tell him why they conducted those 
persons in that manner. One of the guards on horseback 
answered that they were slaves going to the galleys, which was 
all he could say, or the other need know, of the matter. " For 
all that," replied Don Quixote, " I should be glad to know from 
each of them the cause of his misfortune." Whereupon the 
other mounted-guard bid him ask them, if he liked. Don 
Quixote therefore asked the first slave why he was chained in 
that gang ; who made answer : — " For being so deeply in love 
with a basket of fine linen, and sticking so fast to it." The 
second was there for cattle-stealing ; the third, fourth, and fifth, 
had each his own crimes to' confess ; but the last of the lot was 
so much more heavily chained than his companions that the 
knight could not help inquiring the reason of it, and was told 
by one of the guards that this man was a noted robber, Gines 
de Passamonte by name, who had committed more villanies 
than all the rest put together ; therefore, to prevent his escape, 
he was thus heavily ironed. 

Gines was impudent enough in reply ; but just as the guard 
was going to lay his cudgel on his shoulders, Don Quixote 
interfered, desiring him to be quiet. Then turning to the 
criminals, he said, " From all you have told me, dearest brethren, 
I clearly gather that you do not much relish the punishment 
you are going to suffer — that you go to it much against the 
grain ; and it is possible, after all, that you have had scant 
justice done you. Indeed, I am so persuaded that this is the 
case, that my mind prompts, and even compels me, to show in 
you the effect for which Heaven ordained me to profess the 
order of chivalry, and the vow I made in it to succour the 
needy, and those oppressed by the mighty. Yet, knowing that 



74 THE STORY OF DON QUIXOTE 

it is but prudence not to do by foul means that which may be 
done by fair, I will entreat these gentlemen who guard you that 
they will be pleased to loose, and let you go in peace ; for it 
seems to me a hard case to make slaves of those whom God 
and nature have made free. Besides, gentlemen guards," added 
he, " these poor men have committed no offence against you ; 
neither is it fitting that honest men should be the executioners 
of others. I request this of you, in this calm and gentle man- 
ner, that I may have some ground to thank you for your 
compliance ; but if you do it not willingly, this lance, and this 
sword, with the vigour of my arm, shall compel you to do it/' — 
" This is pleasant fooling," answered the commissar}- ; " he 
would have us let the king's prisoners go, as if we had authority 
to set them free, or he to command us to do it. Go on your 
way, signor, and adjust that basin on your noddle, and do not go 
seeking for three legs in a cat." — " You are a cat, and a rat, and 
a rascal to boot," answered Don Quixote ; and so, with a word 
and a blow, attacked him so suddenly that, before the man could 
stand upon his defence, he was thrown to the ground, much 
wounded with the thrust of the lance. And it happened luckily 
for Don Quixote that this was one of the two who carried 
firelocks. The rest of the guard were astonished and confounded 
at the unexpected encounter ; but recovering themselves, fell 
upon Don Quixote, who waited for them with much calmness ; 
and doubtless it had gone ill with him, if the galley-slaves, per- 
ceiving the opportunity which offered itself to them of recover- 
ing their liberty, had not procured it by breaking the chain 
with which they were linked together. The hurry was such 
that the guards, now endeavouring to prevent the slaves from 
getting loose, and now engaging with Don Quixote, who at- 
tacked them, did nothing to any purpose. Sancho, for his part, 
assisted in loosing Gines de Passamonte ; who, setting upon the 
fallen commissary, took away his sword and gun, with which, 
levelling it firs't at one and then at another, without discharging 
it, he cleared the field of all the guard, who fled no less from 
Passamonte's gun, than from the shower of stones which the 
slaves, now at liberty, poured upon them. 



AND HIS SQUIRE SANCHO PANZA. 75 

Sancho was much grieved at what had happened ; for he 
imagined that the fugitives would give notice of the fact to the 
officers of justice, who would sally out in quest of the delin- 
quents ; so he begged his master to be gone from thence imme- 
diately, and take shelter among the trees and rocks of the 
neighbouring mountain. " It is well," said Don Quixote ; "but 
I know what is now proper to be done." Then having called 
all the slaves together, who were in a fright, and had stripped 
the commissary to his skin, they gathered in a ring about him, 
to know his pleasure ; when he thus addressed them : " To be 
thankful for benefits received, is the property of persons well- 
born ; and one of the worst sins is ingratitude. This I say, 
gentlemen, because you have already found the benefit you 
have received at my hands ; in recompense whereof, my will 
and pleasure is, that, loaden with this chain, which I have 
taken off from your necks, you immediately go to the city of 
Toboso, and there present yourselves before the Lady Dulcinea 
del Toboso, and tell her that her ' Knight of the Sorrowful Figure' 
sends you to present his service to her ; and recount to her 
every tittle and circumstance of this memorable adventure, to 
the point of setting you at your wished-for liberty ; this done, 
you may go whither you list." 

Gines de Passamonte answered for them all, and said, " What 
your worship commands us, noble sir, is impossible, for we 
dare not be seen together on the road, but must go separate and 
alone, each man by himself, and endeavour to hide ourselves in 
the very bowels of the earth from the officers of justice, who, 
doubtless, will be out in quest of us. What your worship may, 
and ought to do, is to change this service and duty to the Lady 
Dulcinea del Toboso into something easier ; but to think that 
we will now take our chains, and put ourselves on the way to 
Toboso, is to expect pears from an elm-tree." — u I vow then," 
said Don Quixote, already enraged, " Don, son of a Crab-tree, Don 
Ginesillo de Parapilla, or however you call yourself, you alone 
shall go, like a whipped cur, and the whole chain upon your 
back." Passamonte, seeing himself treated in this manner, winked 
upon his comrades ; and they all, stepping aside, began to rain 



76 THE STORY OF DON QUIXOTE 

such a shower of stones upon Don Quixote, that he could not 
contrive to cover himself with his buckler ; and poor Rozinante 
made no more of the spur than if he had been made of brass. 
Sancho got behind his ass, and thereby sheltered himself from 
the storm that poured upon them both. Don Quixote could 
not screen himself so well, but that he received I know not how 
many thumps, with such force, that they brought him to the 
ground ; and scarce was he fallen, when one of the gang set 
upon him, and, taking the basin from off his head, gave him 
three or four blows with it on the shoulders, and then struck it 
as often against the ground, whereby he almost broke it to 
pieces. They stripped him of a jacket he wore over his armour, 
and would have stripped him of his trousers too, if the greaves 
had not hindered them. They took from Sancho his cloak, 
leaving him in his doublet ; and sharing among themselves the 
spoils of the battle, made the best of their way off, each a dif- 
ferent road, with more care how to escape the officers of justice, 
than to load themselves with the chain, and go and present 
themselves before the Lady Dulcinea del Toboso. 

The ass and Rozinante, Sancho and Don Quixote, remained 
by themselves ; the ass hanging his head, pensive, and now and 
then shaking his ears, thinking that the storm of stones was not 
yet over, but still whizzing about his head ; Rozinante stretched 
along close by his master, he also being knocked down with 
another stone ; Sancho in his doublet, and afraid of the officers ; 
and Don Quixote very much out of humour, to find himself so 
ill-treated by those very persons to whom he had done so much 
good. 

Don Quixote, finding himself so ill-treated, said to his squire, 
" Sancho, I have always heard it said, that to do good to low 
fellows, is to throw water into the sea. Had I believed what 
you said to me, I might have prevented this trouble ; but it is 
done, and I must take warning from henceforward." — " Your 
worship will as much take warning," answered Sancho, " as I 
am a Turk ; but since you say that, if you had believed me, 
you had avoided this mischief, believe me now, and you will 
avoid a greater ; for, let me tell you, there is no putting off the 



AND HIS SQUIRE SANCHO PANZA. 77 

officers with chivalries : they do not care two farthings for all 
the knights-errant in the world ; and know, that I fancy already 
I hear their staves whistling about my ears." — " Thou art 
naturally a coward, Sancho," said Don Quixote ; " but that you 
may not say I am obstinate, and that I never do what you 
advise, I will, for once, take your counsel, and get out of the 
reach of that fury you fear so much ; but upon this one condi- 
tion, that, neither living nor dying, you shall ever tell anybody 
that I retired, and withdrew myself from this peril, out of fear, 
but that I did it out of mere compliance with your entreaties ; 
for, if you say otherwise, you will lie in so doing ; and from this 
time to that, and from that time to this, I tell you, you lie, and 
will lie every time you say or think it ; and reply no more." — 
" Sir," answered Sancho, " retreating is not running away, nor 
is staying wisdom, when the danger overbalances the hope ; 
and it is the part of wise men to secure themselves to-day for 
to-morrow, and not to venture all upon one throw. And know, 
though I am but a clown and a peasant, I have yet some smat- 
tering of what is called good conduct ; therefore, repent not of 
having taken my advice, but get upon Rozinante if you can, 
and if not, I will assist you ; and follow me ; for my noddle tells 
me that for the present we have more need of heels than 
hands." Don Quixote mounted, without replying a word more; 
and, Sancho leading the way upon his ass, they entered on one 
side of the Sierra Morena ; getting that night into the heart of 
it, where Sancho thought it convenient to pass the night, and 
also some days, at least as long as the provisions he had with 
him lasted ; so they took up their lodging between two great 
rocks, and amidst abundance of cork trees. But it so fell out 
that Gines de Passamonte, the famous cheat and robber, whom 
the valour and madness of Don Quixote had delivered from the 
chain, being justly afraid of the officers of justice, took it into 
his head to hide himself in those very mountains, in the same 
place where Don Quixote and Sancho Panza had just fallen 
asleep. Gines, who had neither gratitude nor good-nature, 
resolved to steal Sancho Panza's ass, making no account of 
Rozinante, as a thing neither pawnable nor saleable. The two, 



78 THE STORY OF DON QUIXOTE. 

well tired with their late skirmish, slept as soundly as though 
they had four feather-beds under them ; Don Quixote mounted, 
and leaning on his lance ; the squire, sitting on his ass, whose 
pack-saddle the thief contrived to prop up with four strong 
stakes, and then adroitly drew the beast from under it, without 
waking Sancho, who was left still sitting there, sweetly asleep, 
and in entire ignorance of his loss. 

Morning came, rejoicing the earth, and saddening Sancho 
Panza, who missed his Dapple, and, finding himself deprived of 
him, began the dolefullest lamentation in the world ; so loud it 
was, that Don Quixote awaked at his cries, and heard him say, 
" Oh, my child, born in my own house, the joy of my children, 
the entertainment of my wife, the envy of my neighbours, the 
relief of my burdens, and lastly, the half of my maintenance ! 
for, with six and twenty farthings I earned every day by thy 
means, I half supported my family." Don Quixote, hearing the 
lamentation, comforted Sancho, promising to give him a bill of 
exchange for three young asses out of five he had left at home. 
Sancho was consoled herewith, wiped away his tears, and 
thanked his master for the kindness he showed him ; and then, 
sitting sideways upon his beast, jogged after his master, empty- 
ing the bag, and stuffing to his heart's content. 



i 




CHAPTER VII. 

Don Quixote does penance in the Sierra Morcna, or Sable 
Mountain — The Knight's letter to Dulcinea del Toboso — 
Sanchds account of his visit to Dulcinea, whom he had 
never seen. 

jHILE Sancho was thus enjoying himself in his own 
way, he saw that his master had stopped, and, with 
the point of his lance, was endeavouring to raise 
some heavy bundle from the ground. He hastened 
to help him, and found to his great joy that it was an old, 
weather-beaten, torn portmanteau, containing plenty of fine 
linen-shirts, and other clothing, together with a good sum of 
money, and a small pocket-book. The money his master 
bade him keep for himself, the linen was stowed away in the 
provender-bag, the pocket-book fell to Don Quixote's own share ; 
and, thanking Heaven for providing them with one profitable 
adventure, Sancho followed our knight into the most craggy 
part of the Sierra Morena. But, comforted as he was with the 
rich prize just secured, he was in a very ill humour ; which 
vented itself at last in the following fashion : — " Signor Don 
Quixote, be pleased to give me your worship's blessing, and my 
dismission ; for I will get me home to my wife and children, with 
whom I shall at least have the privilege of talking and speak- 
ing my mind ; for, to desire me to bear your worship company 
through these solitudes, night and day, without suffering me to 
talk when I list, is to bury me alive. If fate had ordered it 
that beasts should talk now, as they did in the days of Milk- 
sop, it had not been quite so bad ; since I might then have 



80 THE STORY OF DON QUIXOTE 

communed with my ass (if he were here), and thus have for- 
gotten my ill -fortune ; for it is very hard, and not to be borne 
with patience, for a man to ramble about all his life in quest of 
adventures, and to meet with nothing but kicks and cuffs, toss- 
ings in a blanket, and brick-bat bangs, and, with all this, to sew 
up his mouth, and not dare to utter what he has in his heart, as 
if he were dumb." — " I understand you, Sancho," answered Don 
Quixote ; " you are impatient until I take off the embargo I have 
laid on your tongue. Suppose it taken off, and say what you 
will, upon condition that this revocation is to last no longer 
than whilst we are wandering among these craggy rocks." — 
" Be it so," said Sancho ; and he forthwith availed himself of 
this permission pretty liberally, by lecturing his master upon 
what he was pleased to term his. want of discretion and common 
sense. But the knight put him down sharply, bidding him hold 
his tongue, mind his own business, and thenceforward not meddle 
with what did not concern him ; adding decisively, " Know 
you, with all your five senses, that whatever I have done, do, or 
shall do, is highly reasonable, and exactly comformable to the 
rules of chivalry, which I am better acquainted with than all 
the knights in the world." He then informed his squire that in 
seeking this wild spot, his intention was herein to imitate some 
of the valiant knights of old who, disdained by their lady-loves, 
retired to some lonely place, and there spent the time either in 
weeping, sighing, and praying, like Amadis de Gaul, or in 
madly wreaking vengeance on all and everything around, like 
Orlando Furioso, by way of testifying their grief. Meanwhile 
Sancho was to carry a letter from him to the Lady Dulcinea, 
and bring back her answer, which would either release him 
from his penance, or, if it were unfavourable to his suit, make 
him mad in good earnest. 

" But tell me, Sancho," he added, " have you taken care of 
Mambrino's helmet, which I saw you take off the ground, when 
that graceless fellow would have broken it to pieces, but could 
not? whence you may perceive the excellence of its temper." 
To which Sancho answered, "Sir Knight of the Sorrowful Figure, 
I cannot endure or bear with patience some things your worship 



AND HIS SQUIRE SANCHO PANZA. 8 1 

says ; they are enough to make me think that all you tell me of 
chivalry, and of winning kingdoms and empires, of bestowing 
islands, and doing other favours and mighty things, according 
to the custom of knights-errant, must be mere vapour, and a 
lie, and all friction, or fiction, or how do you call it ? for, to hear 
you say that a barber's basin is Mambrino's helmet, and that 
you cannot be beaten out of this error in several days, what can 
one think but that he who says and affirms such a thing must 
be addle-brained ? I have the basin in my wallet, all battered, 
and I carry it to get it mended at home, for the use of my beard, 
if it please Heaven to restore me one time or other to my wife 
and children." — " Behold, Sancho," said Don Quixote, " I swear 
that thou hast the shallowest brain that any squire has, or ever 
had, in the world. Is it possible, that in all the time you have 
gone about with me, you do not perceive that all matters re- 
lating to knights-errant appear follies and extravagancies ? not 
that they are in reality so, but because there is a crew of en- 
chanters always about us, who alter and disguise all our matters, 
and turn them according to their own pleasure, as they are in- 
clined to favour or distress us. Hence it is that this which ap- 
pears to you a barber's basin, appears to me Mambrino's helmet, 
and to another will perhaps appear something else. And it was a 
singular foresight of the sage, my friend, to make that appear to 
everybody to be a basin which, really and truly, is Mambrino's 
helmet ; because, being of so great value, all the world would 
set upon me, in order to take it from me : but now that they 
take it for nothing but a barber's basin, they do not trouble 
themselves to get it ; as was evident in him who endeavoured to 
break it, and left it on the ground without carrying it off ; for, in 
faith, had he known what it was, he would never have left it. Take 
care of it, friend ; for I have no need of it at present : I rather 
think of putting off all my armour and clothes, in case I should 
have more mind to copy the knight Orlando in my penance 
than Amadis." 

Thus saying they came to the foot of a steep rock, at whose 
base were green, delicious meadows, shaded by forest trees ; and 
here it was that the knight determined to perform his penance, 

F 



82 THE STORY OF DON QUIXOTE 

and lament the (supposed) cruelty of his lady. So bidding his 
squire observe, and scrupulously remember what he saw, in order 
that he might relate the same to her, who was the cause of it 
all, he alighted from Rozinante, in an instant took off his bridle 
and saddle ; and, giving him a slap, said to him, " O steed ! he 
gives thee liberty who wants it himself. Go whither thou wilt." 
Sancho observing all this, said, " Peace be with him who saved 
us the trouble of unsaddling Dapple ; for, in faith, he should not 
have wanted a slap or a speech in his praise. But if he were 
here, I would not consent to his being unsaddled, for he had 
nothing to do with love or despair, any more than I, who was 
once his master. And truly, Sir Knight of the Sorrowful Figure, 
if it be so that my departure and your madness go on in earnest 
it will be needful to saddle Rozinante again, that he may supply 
the loss of my Dapple, and save me time in going and coming : 
for if I go on foot, I know not when I shall get thither, nor when 
return." — " Be it as you will," answered Don Quixote ; " you shall 
depart within three days, for I intend in that time to show you 
what I do and say for her, that you may tell it her." — " What ! 
have I more to see," said Sancho, "than what I have already 
seen?" — "You are very far from being perfect in the story," 
answered Don Quixote ; " for I have not yet torn my garments, 
scattered my arms about, and dashed my head against these 
rocks, with other things of the like sort, that will strike you 
with admiration." — " For goodness' sake," said Sancho, " have a 
care how you give yourself those knocks ; for you may chance 
to light upon such an unlucky point of a rock, that at the first 
dash you may knock your brains out. And I should think, since 
your worship is of opinion that knocks of the head are neces- 
sary, you might content yourself— (since all is a fiction and a 
sham) — I say, you might content yourself with running your 
head against water, or some soft thing, such as cotton ; and 
leave it to me to tell my lady that you dashed your head against 
the point of a rock harder than that of a diamond." — " I thank 
you for your good-will, friend Sancho," answered Don Quixote ; 
" but I would have you to know that all these things that I do are 
not in jest, but very good earnest ; for, otherwise, it would be to 



AND HIS SQUIRE SANCHO PANZA. 83 

transgress the rules of chivalry, which enjoin us to tell no lie at 
all, on pain of being punished as apostates ; and the doing one 
thing for another is the same as lying. And therefore my knocks 
on the head must be real, substantial, and sound ones. How- 
ever, it will be necessary to leave me some lint to heal me, since 
fortune will have it that we have lost the balsam." — " It was 
worse to lose the ass," answered Sancho ; " for, in losing him, 
we lost lint and everything else. And I beseech your worship 
not to put me in mind of that abominable drench ; for, in barely 
hearing it mentioned, my very soul is turned upside-down, not 
to say my stomach. As for the three days allowed me for seeing 
the mad pranks you are to perform, make account, I beseech 
you, that they are already passed ; for I take them all for 
granted, and will tell wonders to my lady ; — and write you the 
letter, and despatch me quickly, for I long to come back and 
release your worship from this purgatory, wherein I leave you." 
" Good," said the knight ; " but how shall we contrive to write 
the letter?" — "And the ass-colt bill?" added Sancho. "No- 
thing shall be omitted," said Don Quixote ; " and, since we have 
no paper, we shall do well to write it, as the ancients did, on 
the leaves of trees, or on tablets of wax ; though it will be as 
difficult to meet with these at present as with paper. But it 
may be as well to write it in that pocket-book, and you will take 
care to get it fairly transcribed upon paper in the first town you 
come to where there is a schoolmaster ; or, if there be none, any 
parish clerk will transcribe it for you." — " But what must we do 
about the signing it with your own hand ?" said Sancho. " Letters 
of this sort are never subscribed," answered Don Quixote. "Very 
well," replied Sancho; "but the warrant for the colts must of 
necessity be signed by yourself; for, if that be copied, people 
will say the signing is counterfeited, and I shall loose the colts." — 
" The warrant shall be signed in the same pocket-book ; and at 
sight of it, my niece will make no difficulty to comply with it. 
As to what concerns the love-letter, let it be subscribed thus : 
* Yours, until death, the Knight of the Sorrowful Figure.' And 
it is no great matter if it be in another hand ; for, by what I re- 
member, Dulcinea can neither write nor read ; nor has she ever 



84 THE STORY OF DON QUIXOTE 

seen writing of mine in her whole life. Nay, I have not seen 
her four times ; and perhaps of these four times, she may not 
have once perceived that I looked at her. Such is the reserve 
and strictness with which her father Lorenzo Corchuelo, and her 
mother, Aldonza Nogales, have brought her up." 

" Hey-day ! " said Sancho, " what ! the daughter of Lorenzo 
Corchuelo! is she the Lady Dulcinea del Toboso?" — "It is 
even she," said Don Quixote ; " and she, who deserves to be 
mistress of the universe." — " I know her well," replied Sancho ; 
" and I can assure you she will pitch the bar with the stoutest 
fellow in the parish. Why, she is a mettled lass, tall, straight, 
and vigorous, and can make her part good with any knight- 
errant. Oh, the jade ! what a pair of lungs and a voice she has ! 
I remember she got one day upon the church steeple, to call 
some ploughmen, who were in her father's field ; and though 
they were half a mile oft, they heard her as plainly as if they 
had stood at the foot of the tower ; and the best of her is, that 
she makes a jest and a may-game of everybody. And I con- 
fess to your worship, Signor Don Quixote, that hitherto I have 
been in a great error ; for I thought for certain that the Lady 
Dulcinea was some great princess, or at least some person of 
such great quality as to deserve the rich presents you have 
sent her, as well that of the Biscainer as that of the galley- 
slaves. But, all things considered, what good can it do the 
Lady Aldonza Lorenzo, I mean the Lady Dulcinea del Toboso, 
to have the vanquished, whom your worship sends or may send, 
fall upon their knees before her ? For who knows but, at the 
time they arrive, she may be carding flax, or threshing in 
the barn, and they may be ashamed to see her, and she may 
laugh at them?" — " I have often told thee, Sancho," said Don 
Quixote, " that thou art an eternal babbler, and, though void 
of wit, your bluntness often occasions smarting." 

Don Quixote then pulled out the pocket-book, and, stepping 
aside, began very gravely to write the letter. When he had 
done, he called Sancho, and said he would read it to him, that 
he might have it by heart, if he should chance to lose it by the 
way. To which Sancho answered, " Write it, sir, two or three 



AND HIS SQUIRE SANCHO PANZA. 85 

times in the book, and give it me, and I will carry it carefully ; 
but to think that I can carry it in my memory, is nonsense ; 
for mine is so bad that I often forget my own name. Never- 
theless, read it to me ; I shall be glad to hear it, for it must 
needs be a clever one." — " Listen then," said Don Quixote. 

Don Quixote's Letter to Dulcinea del Toboso. 
" Sovereign and high Lady, 

" The stabbed by the point of absence, and the pierced to 
the heart, oh, sweetest Dulcinea del Toboso ! sends that health 
to you which he wants himself. If your beauty despises me, 
and if your disdain still pursues me, though I am inured to 
suffering, I shall ill support an affliction, which is not only 
violent, but the more durable for being so. My good squire 
Sancho will give you a full account, O ungrateful fair, and 
my beloved enemy ! of the condition I am in for your sake. If 
it pleases you to relieve me, I am yours ; and if not, do what 
seems good to you ;— for, by my death, I shall at once satisfy 
your cruelty and my own love. 

" Yours, until death, 
" The Knight of the Sorrowful Figure." 

"Well, I never ! " said Sancho, hearing the letter ; "it is the 
best thing I ever heard. How curiously your worship expresses 
in it whatever you please ! and how excellently do you close all 
with 'the Knight of the Sorrowful Figure!' Verily, your wor- 
ship is a witch, and there is nothing but what you know." — 
" The profession I am of," answered Don Quixote, " requires 
me to understand everything." — "Well then," said Sancho, 
"pray clap on the other side the leaf the bill for the three ass- 
colts, and sign it very plain, that people may know your hand 
at first sight."—" With all my heart," said Don Quixote. And, 
having written it, he read as follows : — 

" Dear niece, at sight of this my first bill of ass-colts, give 
order that three of the five I left at home be delivered to Sancho 
Panza, my squire." 

" It is mighty well," said Sancho ; " pray sign it." — " It wants 



86 THE STORY OF DON QUIXOTE 

no signing," said Don Quixote ; " I need only put my cipher to 
it, which is the same thing, and is sufficient, not only for three 
asses, but for three hundred." — " I rely upon your worship," 
answered Sancho : " let me go and saddle Rozinante, and pre- 
pare to give me your blessing ; for I intend to depart immedi- 
ately, without staying to see the follies you are about to commit ; 
and I will relate that I saw you act so many, that she can desire 
no more." — " At least, Sancho," said Don Quixote, " I would 
have you see, nay, it is necessary you should see me do a dozen 
or two of mad pranks ; I shall despatch them in less than half 
an hour." — " For goodness' sake, dear sir," said Sancho, " don't 
let me see your mad pranks, for I should not be able to forbear 
weeping. But setting aside all this, what is your worship to 
eat until my return ? Are you to go upon the highway, to rob 
the shepherds ? " — " Trouble not yourself about that," answered 
Don Quixote ; " I would eat nothing but herbs and fruits, which 
this meadow and these trees will afford me ; for the very top 
and crown of my affair consists in not eating and other aus- 
terities." Then Sancho said, " Do you know, sir, what I fear ? 
that I shall not be able to find the way again to this place, 
where I leave yc>u ; it is so concealed." — " Observe well the 
marks, for I will endeavour to be hereabouts," said Don Quixote, 
"and will, moreover, take care to get to the top of some of 
the highest cliffs, to see if I can discover you when you return. 
But the surest way not to miss me, nor lose yourself, will be 
to cut down some boughs of the trees here, and strew them as 
you go on, until you are got down into the plain, and they 
will serve as land-marks and tokens to find me by at your 
return." 

" I will do so/' answered Sancho Panza. And having cut 
down several, he begged his master's blessing, and, not without 
many tears on both sides, took his leave of him. Then, mount- 
ing Rozinante, of whom Don Quixote gave him an especial 
charge, desiring him to be as careful of him as of his own pro- 
per person, he rode towards the plain, strewing broom-boughs 
here and there, as his master had directed him ; though Don 
Quixote still importuned him to stay and see him perform 



AND HIS SQUIRE SANCHO PAXZA. 87 

though it were but a couple of mad pranks. But he had not 
gone above a hundred paces, when he turned back and said, 
" Your worship, sir, said very well, that, in order to my being 
able to swear with a safe conscience that I have seen you do 
mad tricks, it would be proper I should at least see you do 
one ; though in truth I have seen a very great one already, in 
your staying here." — " Did I not tell you so?" said Don Quixote. 
" Stay but a moment, Sancho, I will despatch them in a twink- 
ling." And with that he nimbly turned head over heels two or 
three times so briskly, as fully satisfied the squire that his 
master was, in truth, stark, staring mad. 

When Sancho was fairly gone, our poor knight got to the top 
of a high rock ; and sitting down there in melancholy mood — 
and only his shirt — began to consider how he would spend the 
time until the return of his squire. And as the result of his 
meditation was, that he would rather imitate Amadis than the 
Furioso, he descended to the plain, and there walking to and 
fro, gave himself up to sighing and wailing, and writing on the 
bark of trees, and in the fine sand, verses in praise of his Dul- 
cinea : also in gathering herbs for his sustenance. 

Meanwhile Sancho, on his way to Toboso, had got as far as 
the inn where the mishap of the blanketing had befallen him. 
At sight of it he already felt himself flying through the air 
again ; but greatly desiring some warm food after the cold 
cheer he had so long been living on, he drew near it, when who 
in the world should he see but the priest and the barber of his 
own village — Don Quixote's old friends — who, coming up to him, 
asked where he had left his master. He replied that his master 
was doing a penance much to his mind in a certain mountain ; 
and he himself was carrying a letter to the Lady Dulcinea del 
Toboso, with whom his master was up to the ears in love. 
Feeling for it in his bosom, as he spoke, he found to his horror 
it was not there, for indeed the knight had forgotten to give it 
to him. He turned pale at the discovery, tore his beard, and 
gave himself half a dozen good cuffs on his nose and mouth, 
which caused the two to ask what was the matter that he 
handled himself so roughly. " Matter enough," answered 



88 THE STORY OF DON QUIXOTE 

Sancho, " for I have lost, and let slip through my fingers, three 
ass-colts, each of them as stately as a castle." — " How so ?" re- 
plied the barber. " I have lost the pocket-book," answered 
Sancho, " in which was the letter to Dulcinea, and a bill signed 
by my master, by which he ordered his niece to deliver to me 
three colts out of four or five he had at home." And at the 
same time he recounted to them the loss of Dapple. The priest 
bid him be of good cheer, telling him that, when he saw his 
master, he would engage him to renew the order, and draw the 
bill over again upon paper, since those that were written in 
pocket-books were never accepted, or complied with. Sancho 
was comforted by this, and said that, since it was so, he was in 
no great pain for the loss of the letter to Dulcinea, for he could 
almost say it by heart ; so that they might write it down from 
his mouth, where and when they pleased. " Repeat it then, 
Sancho," said the barber, " and we will write it down after- 
wards." Then Sancho began to scratch his head, to bring the 
letter to his remembrance ; and now stood upon one foot, and 
then upon the other ; one while he looked down upon the 
ground, another up to the skies ; and after he had bit off half a 
nail of one of his fingers, he said, after a very long pause, 
" Hang it, if I remember one bit of the letter ; though at the 
beginning it said, ' High and subterrane lady.' " — " No," said 
the barber, " not subterrane, but super-humane, or sovereign 
lady." — " It was so," said Sancho. " Then if I do not mistake, 
it went on, ' the wounded, and the waking, and the smitten, 
kisses your honour's hands, ungrateful and regardless fair ! ' 
and then it said I know not what of 'health and sickness that 
he sent ; ' and so he went on, until at last he ended with ' thine, 
till death, the Knight of the Sorrowful Figure.'" 

They were both not a little pleased to see how good a memory 
Sancho had, and commended it much, desiring him to repeat 
the letter twice more, that they also might get it by heart, 
in order to write it down in due time. Thrice Sancho 
repeated it again, and thrice he added three thousand other 
extravagancies. After this, he recounted also many other 
things concerning his master, but said not a word of the tossing 



AND HIS SQUIRE SANCHO PANZA. 89 

in the blanket, which had happened to himself in that inn, into 
which he refused to enter. He said likewise, how his lord, upon 
his carrying him back a kind despatch from his Lady Dulcinea 
del Toboso, was to endeavour to become an emperor, or at least 
a king ; for so it was concerted between them two ; and it would 
be a very easy matter to bring it about, considering the worth 
of his person, and the strength of his arm. When this was ac- 
complished, his master was to marry him (for by that time, he 
should, without doubt, be a widower), and to give him to wife one 
of the empress's maids of honour, heiress to a large and rich ter- 
ritory on the mainland, for, as to islands, he was quite out of con- 
ceit with them. Sancho said all this with so much gravity, ever 
and anon blowinghis nose, that they were struckwith fresh admira- 
tion at the powerful influence of Don Quixote's madness, which 
had carried away with it this poor fellow's understanding also. 
They would not give themselves the trouble to set him right, pre- 
ferring to be amused by his follies ; so they just told him that it 
was, as he said, very probable that his master might become an em- 
peror, or an archbishop at least. Sancho did not much like the 
idea of his master becoming an archbishop, as he feared that in 
that case his own reward, as an unlearned man, who could not 
even say his ABC, would not be so much to his mind. But 
his friends (who thoroughly enjoyed the fun of the poor squire's 
simplicity) assured him that they would urge Don Quixote to be 
an emperor or king instead ; which would also be better for him- 
self, he being more of a soldier than a scholar. Then going 
into the inn, where Sancho dared not follow, though he did not 
think proper to tell them why, they sent out, at his request, 
some meat for himself, and barley for Rozinante ; and then 
laid their heads together to devise some scheme forgetting their 
crack-brained friend home again. The plan they hit upon was, 
that the barber should dress himself up, and pretend to be an 
afflicted damsel, who desired Don Quixote's help to redress 
wrongs done to her by a discourteous knight, or giant, for which 
purpose he was to follow whithersoever she pleased to lead ; the 
priest being also disguised as the damsel's squire. 

The landlady, whom they took into their counsels, readily 



90 THE STORY OF DON QUIXOTE 

lent them some clothes ; and, having equipped themselves, 
they set forth to find the knight ; the one in a petticoat 
trimmed with slashed black velvet, green velvet waistcoat, 
broad-brimmed hat, wrapped up in a large cloak, and riding 
his mule sideways, like a woman ; the other, as squire, having 
his face hidden with a huge grizzled beard, made of the tail of 
an ox. 

Their plan was carried out better than they expected ; for, 
on approaching the scene of Don Quixote's penance, they came 
upon a beautiful maiden, who, disguised as a peasant boy, sat 
beneath an ash-tree, washing her feet in the stream. This 
maiden, whose name was Dorothea, hearing of their device for 
inducing Don Quixote to return to his home, offered herself to 
play the part of distressed damsel : an offer which they gladly 
accepted, for Sancho, who had been sent on first, had just re- 
turned, saying that he had found his master feeble and worn 
out, nearly dead with hunger, but still sighing for his Dul- 
cinea. But it was needful to deceive the simple squire as well 
as his master ; so, to help out their friendly plot, they told him 
that the lady was the Princess Micomicona, heiress to a mighty 
kingdom in Ethiopia, who was travelling to request a great 
boon from the renowned Don Quixote. Sancho fell into the 
trap as readily as though he had been a mouse, and smelled 
toasted cheese ; heartily expressing his own wish that when his 
master had righted the princess — as, of course, he would — he 
would marry her immediately, and so be in a position to reward 
his squire with that earldom, or government, which had been 
promised him. u Like master, like man," thought the priest ; 
and at once went to work, sending off Dorothea, and the 
barber, with his huge beard, to where our weather-beaten 
knight was to be found. Sancho guided them ; and finding 
Don Quixote by that time clothed, though not armed, the 
maiden threw herself at his feet, entreating him, as a valorous 
knight, to avenge her wrongs, slay the giant that kept her out 
of her dominions, and, to ensure his performance of this, that 
he should solemnly promise not to engage in any other adven- 
ture until this one should be achieved. 



AND HIS SQUIRE SANCHO PANZA. Cjf 

Don Quixote chivalrously granted her request as soon as 
preferred ; and was in haste to be gone about it. So Sancho 
helped his master to put on his armour, took down his shield 
and lance and sword, which hung upon a tree, and mounted 
him on Rozinante ; the barber laughing so, that he had much 
ado to keep his beard from falling off, which would have 
spoiled all. They then set out, being presently joined by the 
priest, and ambled along pleasantly, only that Don Quixote got 
so out of patience with Sancho 1 s advising him to marry this 
lady-princess, and think no more of Dulcinea, that he lifted up 
his lance, and, without one word of warning, gave him two or 
three such blows as laid him flat ; and, but for Dorothea's 
entreaty, would have well-nigh made an end of him. 

Peace being made between the two, they continued their 
journey as before, until they met what seemed to be a gipsy, 
riding on an ass. But Sancho's sharp eyes finding out that 
this gipsy was the thief Gines de Passamonte, and the ass his 
own dear Dapple, whom that thief of thieves had stolen, ran 
up, crying out, " Ah, rogue, leave my darling, let go my life, 
rob me not of my repose, quit my ass, leave my delight ; fly, 
beast, get you gone, thief, and yield what is not your own ! >J 
There was no need for more. At the first word Gines jumped 
down, took to his heels, and was out of sight in a moment ; 
whilst Sancho embraced, kissed, and caressed his dearest 
Dapple, bestowing on him all manner of endearments, as 
though he had been a human being ; and presently thanking 
his master, who assured him that though he had got his own 
beast back, he should not, for that, lose the three ass colts. 

He then began to question Sancho about his visit to the 
Lady Dulcinea, — where he found her, what she was doing, how 
she looked when she read the letter, who wrote it out, and 
other things of the sort. To which Sancho replied, that hav- 
ing left the letter behind him (as his worship knew), he had 
repeated it to a parish clerk, who admired it greatly, and wrote 
it out from his lips. " And have you it still by heart ? " said 
Don Quixote. "No, sir," replied Sancho, "for after I had 
delivered it, I forgot it on purpose; and, if I remember aught 



92 THE STORY OF DON QUIXOTE 

of it, it is the 'high and subterrane lady,' and the conclusion, 
1 thine, until death, the Knight of the Sorrowful Figure ; ' and, 
between these two, I put above three hundred ' souls,' and 
' lives,' and ' dear eyes ! ' " — " All this does not displease me," 
said Don Quixote. " You arrived ; and what was that queen 
of beauty doing ? Without doubt, you found her stringing 
pearls, or embroidering some device with threads of gold for 
this her captive knight." — " No, I did not," answered Sancho ; 
" but I found her winnowing two bushels of wheat in a back- 
yard of her house."—" Then make account," said Don Quixote, 
" that the grains of that wheat were so many grains of pearl 
when touched by her hands. And did you take notice, friend, 
whether the wheat was fine, or the ordinary sort ? " — " It was 
neither," answered Sancho, " but of the reddish kind." — " Be 
assured, however," said Don Quixote, " that, when winnowed 
by her hands, it certainly made the finest manchet bread ; but 
go on. When you gave her my letter, did she kiss it ? Did 
she put it reverentially upon her head? or what did she do ?" 
— " When I was going to give it her," answered Sancho, " she 
was very busy in winnowing a good sieveful of the wheat ; and 
she said to me, ' Lay the letter, friend, upon that sack ; for I 
cannot read it until I have done winnowing all that is here.' " 
— " Discreet lady ! " said Don Quixote ; " this was, to be sure, 
that she might read it, and entertain herself with it, at leisure. 
Proceed, Sancho. While she was thus employed, what did she 
inquire of you concerning me ? and what did you answer ? Tell 
it me all ; leave nothing at the bottom of the ink-horn." — " She 
asked me nothing," said Sancho ; " but I told her how your 
worship was doing penance, for her service, among these rocks, 
as if you were a savage, sleeping on the ground, not eating 
bread on a napkin, nor combing your beard, weeping and 
cursing your fortune." — " In saying that I cursed my fortune, 
you said amiss," said Don Quixote : " I rather bless it, and shall 
bless it all the days of my life, for having made me worthy to 
love so high a lady as Dulcinea del Toboso." — " So high 
indeed," answered Sancho, " that, in good faith, she is a hand- 
ful taller than I am." — " Why, how, Sancho," said Don Quixote, 



AND HIS SQUIRE SANCHO PANZA. 93 

"have you measured with her?"— "I measured thus," an- 
swered Sancho: "as I was helping her to put a sack of wheat 
upon an ass, we stood so close, that I perceived she was taller 
than I by more than a full span." — " Well, then," continued 
Don Quixote, " she has now done winnowing, and the corn is 
sent to the mill. What did she do when she had read the 
letter ? " — " The letter," said Sancho, " she did not read ; for 
she told me she could neither read nor write : on the contrary, 
she tore it to pieces, saying she would not give it to anybody 
to read, that her secrets might not be known in the village ; 
and that what I had told her by word of mouth, concerning 
the love your worship bore her, and the extraordinary penance 
you were doing for her sake, was enough : lastly, she bid me 
tell your worship that she kissed your hands, and that she 
remained with greater desire to see you than to write to you ; 
and therefore she humbly entreated and commanded you, at sight 
hereof, to quit those brakes and bushes, leave off those foolish 
extravagancies, and set off immediately for Toboso, if some 
other business of greater importance did not intervene ; for she 
had a mighty mind to see your worship. She laughed heartily 
when I told her how you called yourself the Knight of the 
Sorrowful Figure. I asked her whether the Biscainer of 
t'other day had been there with her ; she told me he had, and 
that he was a very honest fellow. I asked her also after the 
galley-slaves ; but she told me she had not yet seen any of 
them." — " All goes well as yet," said Don Quixote. " But, 
tell me, what jewel did she give you at your departure, for the 
news you had brought her of me ? For it is a usual and an 
ancient custom among knights, and ladies-errant, to bestow 
some rich jewel on the squires, damsels, or dwarfs who bring 
them news of their mistresses or servants, as a reward or 
acknowledgment for their welcome news." — "Very likely," 
said Sancho ; " and a very good custom it was ; but, now-a- 
days, the custom is to give only a bit of bread and cheese ; 
for that was what my Lady Dulcinea gave me over the pales of 
the yard when she dismissed me ; by the same token that the 
cheese was made of sheep's milk." — " She is extremely gener- 



94 THE STORY OF DON QUIXOTE 

ous," said Don Quixote ; "and if she did not give you a jewel 
of gold, it must be because she had not one about her." 

" But now, what would you advise me to do as to what my lady 
commands me, about going to see her ? For, though I know I 
am bound to obey her commands, I find myself, at present, 
under an impossibility of doing it, on account of the boon I 
have promised to grant the princess, who is now with us. 
What I propose is, to get quickly to the place where this giant 
is, and, presently after my arrival, cut off his head, settle the 
princess peaceably in her kingdom, and that instant to return 
and see that sun that enlightens my senses ; to whom I will 
make such an excuse, that she shall allow my delay was neces- 
sary : for she will perceive that all redounds to the increase of 
her glory and fame, since what I have won, do win, or shall win, 
by force of arms, in this life, proceeds wholly from the succour 
she affords me, and from my being hers." — "Ah ! " said Sancho, 
" how is your worship disordered in your head ! Pray, tell me, 
sir, do you intend to take this journey for nothing ? and will 
you let slip a match like this, when the dowry is a kingdom 
which, as I have heard say, is above twenty thousand leagues in 
circumference, and bigger than Portugal and Castile together ? 
For goodness' sake, say no more, and take shame to yourself 
for what you have said already, and follow my advice and par- 
don me, and be married out of hand. And pray, take notice, I 
am of age to give advice ; and what I now give is as fit as if it 
were cast in a mould for you : for a sparrow in the hand is worth 
more than a bustard on the wing ; and he that may have good 
if he will, it is his own fault if he chooses ill." — " Look you, 
Sancho," replied Don Quixote, " if you advise me to marry, 
that, by killing the giant, I may immediately become a king, 
and have it in my power to reward you, by giving you what I 
promised you, I would have you to know that, without marry- 
ing, I can easily gratify your desire : for I will covenant, before 
I enter into the battle, that, upon my coming off victorious, 
without marrying the princess, I shall be entitled to a part of 
the kingdom, to bestow it on whom I please ; and, when I have 
it, to whom do you think I should give it but to yourself?" — 



AND HIS SQUIRE SANCHO PANZA. 95 

"That is clear," answered Sancho ; "but pray, sir, take care to 
choose it toward the sea, that, if I should not like living there, 
I may ship off my black subjects, and make slaves of them 
to my profit. And trouble not yourself to go and see my Lady 
Dulcinea, but go and kill the giant, and let us make an end of 
this business at once." — " You are in the right, Sancho," said 
Don Quixote ; " and I take your advice as to going first with the 
princess, before I go to see Dulcinea." Presently they halted 
a while to eat something ; much to the satisfaction of Sancho, 
who began to be tired of telling so many lies, and was afraid 
his master should at last catch him tripping ; for, though he 
knew Dulcinea was a farmer's daughter of Toboso, he had 
never seen her in all his life. 

While they were thus employed, a young lad happened to 
pass by, who, looking very earnestly at those who were at the 
fountain, presently ran to Don Quixote, and, embracing his 
legs, fell a- weeping in good earnest, and said, " Ah ! dear sir 
does not your worship know me ? I am Andres, the lad whom 
you delivered from the oak to which I was tied." Don Quixote 
knew him again, and, taking him by the hand, turned to the 
company, saying, " To convince you of what importance it is 
that there should be knights-errant in the world, to redress the 
wrongs and injuries committed in it by insolent and wicked 
men, you must know, good people, that, a few days ago, as I 
was passing by a wood, I heard certain outcries, as of some 
person in affliction and distress. I hasted immediately, prompted 
by my duty, towards the place from which the voice seemed to 
come ; and I found, tied to an oak, this lad whom you see here, 
naked from the waist upward, and a country-fellow, whom I 
afterwards found to be his master, was cruelly lashing him with 
the reins of a bridle ; and, as soon as I saw it, I asked him the 
reason of so severe a whipping. The clown answered that he 
was his servant, and that he whipped him for some instances of 
neglect, which proceeded rather from knavery than simplicity. 
On which this boy said, ' Sir, he whips me only because I 
ask him for my wages.' The master replied with I know not 
what speeches and excuses, which I heard indeed, but did net 



96 THE STORY OF DON QUIXOTE 

admit. In short, I made him untie the boy, and swear to take 
him home, and pay him every penny down upon the nail. Is 
not all this true, son Andres?" — "All that your worship has 
said is very true," answered the lad ; "but the business ended 
quite otherwise than you imagine." — " How otherwise ?" replied 
Don Quixote. " Did not the rustic instantly pay you ?" — " He 
not only did not pay me," answered the boy, " but as soon as 
your worship was got out of the wood, and we were left alone, 
he tied me again to the same tree, and flogged me handsomely ; 
and, at every fresh lash he gave me, he said something by way 
of scoff or jest upon your worship, at which, if I had not felt so 
much pain, I could not have forborne laughing. In short, he 
laid on me in such a manner, that I have been ever since in an 
hospital. And your worship is in the fault of all this ; for had 
you gone on your way, and not come where you were not called, 
nor meddled with other folks' business, my master would have 
been satisfied with giving me a dozen or two of lashes, and then 
would have loosed me, and paid me what he owed me. But by 
your worship's abusing him so unmercifully, and calling him so 
many hard names, his wrath was kindled ; and, not having it 
in his power to be revenged on you, no sooner had you left him, 
but he discharged the tempest upon me in such sort, that I shall 
never be a man again while I live." 

" The mischief," said Don Quixote, "was in my going away. 
I should not have stirred until I had seen you paid ; for I might 
have known, by long experience, that no rustic will keep his 
word, if he finds it inconvenient for him so to do. But you may 
remember, Andres, that I swore, if he did not pay you, I would 
seek him out, and find him, though he hid himself in a key-hole." 
— " I do not depend upon these oaths," said Andres ; " I would 
rather have wherewithal to carry me to Seville than all the 
revenges in the world. If you have anything to give me to eat, 
and to carry with me, let me have.it ; and blessings be on your 
worship, and all knights-errant, and may they prove as luckily 
errant to themselves as they have been to me." Sancho pulled 
a piece of bread, and another of cheese, out of his knapsack, 
and giving it to the lad, said to him, " Here, brother Andres, 



AND HIS SQUIRE SANCHO PANZA. 97 

we all have a share in your misfortune." — " Why, what share 
have you in it ? " said Andres. " This piece of bread and 
cheese which I give you," answered Sancho : "goodness knows 
whether I may not want it myself ; for I would have you to 
know, friend, that we squires to knights-errant are subject to 
much hunger, and to ill luck, and to other things too, which are 
more easily conceived than told." Andres laid hold on the 
bread and cheese, and, seeing that nobody else gave him any- 
thing, made his bow, and marched off. It is true that he said, 
at parting, to Don Quixote, " I say, Signor Knight-errant, if 
ever you meet me again, though you see they are beating me to 
pieces, don't you succour or assist me, but leave me to my misfor- 
tune, which cannot be so great, but a greater will follow from 
your worship's aid. A plague on you ! and upon all the knights- 
errant that ever were born in the world ! " Don Quixote was 
getting up to chastise him, but he fell a-running so fast, that 
nobody offered to pursue him. The knight was mightily abashed 
at Andres's story ; and the rest were forced to refrain, though 
with some difficulty, from laughing, that they might not put 
him quite out of countenance. 



CHAPTER VIII. 

Adventure with the wine-skins — Don Quixote's discourse on 
learning and arms — Trick played upon him at the inn — 
Dispute concerning Mambrind s helmet and the pack- 
saddle. 



gmEXT day they arrived at the inn where Sancho had 
had his blanketing ; and Don Quixote, being much 




worn out, went to bed at once in the large room 
where he had before lain. The rest, after they had 
finished supper, entertained themselves with telling stories, in 
the midst of which they were interrupted by Sancho, all in a 
fright, crying aloud, " Run, sirs, quickly, and succour my 
master, who is over head and ears in the toughest and closest 
battle my eyes have ever beheld. He already has given the 
giant, that enemy of the Princess Micomicona, such a stroke, 
that he has cut off his head close to his shoulders, as if it had 
been a turnip." — "What say you, brother?" said the priest. 
"Are you in your senses, Sancho? How can it be, seeing the 
giant is two thousand leagues off?' 7 At that instant they heard 
a great noise in the room, and Don Quixote calling aloud, 
" Stay, cowardly thief, robber, rogue ; for here I have you, and 
your scimitar shall avail you nothing." And it seemed as if he 
gave several hacks and slashes against the walls. " Do not 
stand listening," said Sancho ; " but go in and part them, or 
aid my master : though by this time there will be no occasion ; 
doubtless the giant is already dead ; for I saw the blood run 



THE STORY OF DON QUIXOTE. 99 

about the floor, and the head cut off, and fallen on one side, and 
as big as a great wine-skin." — " I will be hanged," cried the inn- 
keeper, " if Don Quixote, or Don Fool, has not given a gash to 
some of the wine- skins that stand at his bed's head ; and the 
wine he has let out must be what this honest fellow takes for 
blood." So saying, he went into the room, and the whole com- 
pany after him ; and they found Don Quixote in the strangest 
situation in the world. He was in his shirt and night-cap ; 
about his left arm he had twisted the bed-blanket (to which 
Sancho owed a grudge, and he very well knew why), and in his 
right hand he held his drawn sword, with which he was laying 
about him on all sides,- uttering words as if he had really been 
fighting with some giant ; and the best of it was, his eyes were 
shut, for he was fast asleep, and, dreaming that he was engaged 
in battle with the giant, had given the skins so many cuts, that 
the whole room was afloat with wine. The innkeeper, perceiv- 
ing it, fell into such a rage, that he set upon Don Quixote, and, 
with his clenched fists, gave him so many cuffs that, if two of 
them had not taken him off, he would have put an end to the 
war of the giant ; yet, notwithstanding all this, the poor gentle- 
man did not awake until the barber brought a large bucket of 
cold water from the well, and soused it all over his body at a 
dash ; whereat the knight awaked, but not so thoroughly as 
to be sensible of the plight he was in. Sancho searched all 
about the floor for the head of the giant ; and not finding it, 
said, " Well, I see plainly that everything about this house is 
enchantment ; for, the time before, in this very same place 
where I now am, I had several punches and thumps given me, 
without knowing from whence they came, or seeing anybody ; 
and now the head is vanished, which I saw cut off with my own 
eyes, as well as the blood spouting from the body like any 
fountain." — " What blood ? and what fountain ? thou enemy to 
all decent people ! " said the innkeeper. " Dost thou not see, 
thief, that the blood and the fountain are nothing but these 
skins pierced and ripped open, and the red wine floating about 
the room ? I wish him at Jericho that pierced them ! " — " I 
know nothing," said Sancho ; " only that I should be so unfor- 



100 THE STORY OF DON QUIXOTE 

tunate that, for want of finding this head, my earldom will melt 
away like salt in water." Now Sancho awake, was madder 
than his master asleep ; so besotted was he with the promises 
he had made him. The innkeeper lost all patience to see the 
squire's indifference, and the knight's wicked handiwork ; and 
he protested they should not escape, as they did the time before, 
without paying ; and that, this bout, the privileges of his chivalry 
should not exempt him from discharging both reckonings, even 
to the patches of the torn skins. 

The priest held Don Quixote by the hands, who, imagining 
he had finished the adventure, and that he was in the presence 
of the Princess Micomicona, fell on his knees before him saying, 
" High and renowned lady, well may your grandeur from this 
day forward live more secure, now that this ill-born creature can 
do you no hurt : and I also, from this day forward, am freed 
from the promise I gave you, since, through the favour of her 
by whom I live and breathe, I have so happily accomplished it." 
— " Did I not tell you so ? " cried Sancho, hearing this ; " so that 
I was not drunk : see, if my master has not already put the giant 
in pickle — my earldom is cock-sure." At this all laughed except 
the innkeeper, who wished himself a thousand miles off. But, 
at length, the barber and the priest, with much ado, threw Don 
Quixote on the bed, who fell fast asleep, Avith signs of very great 
fatigue. They left him to sleep on, and went out to the inn- 
door, to comfort Sancho for not finding the giant's head : though 
they had most to do to pacify the innkeeper, who was out of 
his wits for the murder of his wine-skins. The hostess muttered, 
and said, " In an unlucky minute, and in an evil hour, came this 
knight-errant into my house. Oh that my eyes had never 
seen him ! he has been a dear guest to me. The last time, he 
went away with a night's reckoning for supper, bed, straw, and 
barley, for himself and for his squire, for a horse and an ass, 
telling us, forsooth, that he was a knight-adventurer (evil adven- 
tures befall him, and all the adventurers in the world !) and that 
therefore he was not obliged to pay anything ; for so it was 
written in the registers of knight-errantry ; and after all, to rip 
open my skins, and let out my wine ! But let him not think to 



AND HIS SQUIRE SANCHO PANZA. IOI 

escape ; for, hang it ! they shall pay me down upon the nail 
every farthing, or may I never be called by my own name, or 
be my own father's daughter." The hostess said all this, and 
more, in great wrath ; and honest Maritornes, her maid, seconded 
her. The priest quieted all, promising to make the best repara- 
tion he could for their loss, as well in the wine-skins as the 
wine ; and Dorothea comforted Sancho Panza, telling him 
that, whenever it should really appear that his master had cut 
off the giant's head, she promised, when she was peaceably seated 
on her throne, to bestow on him the best earldom in her domin- 
ions. Herewith Sancho was comforted, and assured the prin- 
cess she might depend upon it that he had seen the giant's 
head, by the same token that it had a beard which reached 
down to the girdle ; and if it was not to be found, it was because 
everything passed in that house by way of enchantment, as he 
had experienced the last time he lodged there. Dorothea said 
she believed so, and bid him be in no pain ; for all would be 
well, and succeed to his heart's desire. 

While these things were going on, a company of travellers 
came up to the inn ; and among these, by some strange chance, 
was a nobleman, to whom Dorothea was to have been presently 
married, but that a quarrel had risen up between them. Now, 
however, they speedily made friends again, and everybody was 
pleased except Sancho, who, with dismal looks, went in to his 
master, who was then awake, to whom he said, " Your worship 
may very well sleep your fill, Signor Sorrowful Figure, without 
troubling yourself about killing any giant, or restoring the prin- 
cess to her kingdom ; for all is done and over already." — " I 
verily believe it," answered Don Quixote ; " for I have had the 
most monstrous and dreadful battle with the giant that ever I 
believe I shall have in all the days of my life ; and with one 
back-stroke I tumbled his head to the ground, and so great was 
the quantity of blood that gushed from it, that the streams ran 
along the ground, as if it had been water." — " As if it had been 
red wine, your worship might better say," answered Sancho ; 
" for I would have you to know, if you do not know it already, 
that the dead giant is a pierced skin : and the blood, eighteen 



102 THE STORY OF DON QUIXOTE 

gallons of red wine contained in its inside ■ and the head cut off 
is — the dickens ! and all the rest of it !" — "What is it you say, 
fool?" replied Don Quixote. "Are you in your senses?" — 
".Pray, get up, sir," said Sancho, " and you will see what a fine 
piece of work you have made, and what a reckoning we have to 
pay ; and you will see the queen converted into a private lady 
called Dorothea, with other accidents, which, if you take them 
right, will astonish you." — " I shall wonder at nothing of all 
this/ 5 replied Don Quixote ; "for, if you remember well, the 
last time we were here, I told you that all things in thi» place 
went by enchantment, and it would be no wonder if it should 
be so now." — " I should believe so too," answered Sancho, " if 
my being tossed in a blanket had been a matter of this nature ; 
but it was downright real and true : and I saw that the inn- 
keeper, who was here this very day, held a corner of the blan- 
ket, and canted me toward heaven with notable alacrity and 
vigour, and with as much laughter as force ; and where it 
happens that we know persons, in my opinion, though simple 
and a sinner, there is no enchantment at all, but much misusage 
and much mishap." — " Well, time will remedy it," said Don 
Quixote ; " give me my clothes, that I may go and see the 
accidents and transformations you talk of." 

Sancho reached him his clothes ; and presently the knight 
sallied forth, completely armed ; Mambrino's helmet, though 
bruised and battered, on his head, his target braced" on, and 
resting on his saplin or lance. Then fixing his eyes on the fair 
Dorothea, he said, " I am informed, fair lady, by this my squire, 
that your grandeur is annihilated, and that, from a queen and 
great lady, you are metamorphosed into a private maiden. If 
this has been done by the order of the necromantic king, your 
father, out of fear lest I should not afford you the necessary and 
due aid, I say he neither knows, nor ever did know, one half of 
his trade ; and that he is but little versed in the histories of 
knight-errantry ; for had he read and considered them, as atten- 
tively, and as much at leisure, as I have read and considered 
them, he would have found, at every turn, how other knights, 
of a great deal less fame than myself, have achieved matters 



AND HIS SQUIRE SANCHO PANZA. IC3 

much more difficult, it being no such mighty business to kill a 
pitiful giant, be he never so arrogant ; for not many hours are 
past since I had a bout with one myself, and — I say no more, 
lest I should be thought to lie ; but time, the revealer of all 
things, will tell it when we least think of it." — " It was with a 
couple of wine-skins, and not a giant," said the innkeeper. 
But the knight, not heeding him, went on, saying, " I say, in 
fine, high and disinherited lady, that if, for the cause aforesaid, 
your father has made this metamorphosis in your person, I 
would have you give no heed to it at all ; for there is no danger 
upon earth through which my sword shall not force a way, and, 
by bringing down the head of your enemy to the ground, place 
the crown of your kingdom upon your own in a few days." 

He said no more, but awaited the princess's answer ; who 
replied to him, " Whoever told you, valorous ' Knight of the 
Sorrowful Figure,' that I was changed and altered from what I 
was, did not tell you the truth ; for I am the same to-day that I 
was yesterday. So that, dear sir, to-morrow morning let us set 
forward on our journey ; and for the rest of the good success I 
expect, I depend entirely on your valour." 

Upon this, Don Quixote turned to Sancho, and, with an 
angry air, said to him, " I tell thee now, little Sancho, that thou 
art the greatest little rascal in all Spain. Tell me, thief, vaga- 
bond, didst thou not tell me just now that this princess was 
transformed into a damsel called Dorothea, and that the head 
which, as I take it, I lopped off from the giant, was the dickens, 
and all the rest of it, with other absurdities, which put me into 
the greatest confusion I ever was in all the days of my life ? I 
vow I have a great mind to make such a havoc of thee as shall 
put wit into the noddles of all the lying squires of knights-errant 
that shall be from henceforward in the world." — " Pray, dear 
sir, be pacified," answered Sancho ; " for I may easily be mis- 
taken as to the transformation of madam the Princess Micomi- 
cona ; but as to the giant's head, or at least the piercing of the 
skins, and the blood 's being but red wine, I am not deceived ; 
for the skins yonder at your worship's bed's head are cut and 
slashed, and the red wine has turned the room into a pond ; 



104 THE STORY OF DON QUIXOTE 

and if nor, it will be seen before long ; I mean, you will 
find it when his worship Signor Innkeeper here demands 
damages." — " I tell thee, Sancho," said Don Quixote, " thou art 
an ass ; forgive me, that's enough." 

By this time it was four in the afternoon, and the innkeeper 
had taken care to provide a collation for his guests, which 
being now ready, they all sat down at a long table. They gave 
the upper end and principal seat (though he would have declined 
it) to Don Quixote, who would needs have the Lady Micomicona 
sit next him, as being her champion. The others placed them- 
selves in order ; and thus they banqueted much to their satis- 
faction ; and it gave them an additional pleasure to hear Don 
Quixote, who, instead of eating, spoke as follows : — 

"In truth, gentlemen, great and unheard-of things do they 
see who profess the order of knight-errantry. If any one thinks 
otherwise, let me ask him what man living, that should now 
enter at this castle-gate, and see us sitting in this manner, could 
judge or believe us to be the persons we really are ? Who could 
say that this lady, sitting here by my side, is that great queen 
that we all know her to be, and that I am that Knight of the 
Sorrowful Figure, so blazoned abroad by the mouth of fame ? 
Away with those who say that letters have the advantage over 
arms. For the reason they usually give is, that the labours of 
the brain exceed those of the body, and that arms are exercised 
by the body alone ; as if the use of them were the business of 
porters, for which nothing is necessary but downright strength ; 
or as if in this, which we, who profess it, call chivalry, were not 
included the acts of fortitude, which require a very good under- 
standing to execute them ; or as if the mind of the warrior, who 
has an army, or the defence of a besieged city, committed to 
his charge, does not labour with his understanding as well as 
his body. If not, let us see how, by mere bodily strength, he 
will be able to penetrate into the designs of the enemy, to form 
stratagems, overcome difficulties, and prevent dangers which 
threaten : for all these things are acts of the understanding, in 
which the body has no share at all. It being so, then, that arms 
employ the mind as well as letters, let us next see whose mind 



AND HIS SQUIRE SANCHO PANZA. I05 

labours most, the scholar's or the warrior's. Now the end and 
design of letters (I do not now speak of divinity, which has for 
its aim the raising and conducting souls to heaven, for to an 
end so endless as this no other can be compared, — I speak of 
human learning, whose end, I say) is to regulate distributive 
justice, and give to every man his due ; to know good laws, 
and cause them to be strictly observed — an end most certainly 
generous and exalted, and worthy of high commendation ; but 
not equal to that which is annexed to the profession of arms, 
whose object and end is peace, the greatest blessing men can 
wish for in this life. Accordingly, the first good news the world 
and men received was what the angels brought on that night 
which was our day, when they sang in the clouds, ' Glory be to 
God on high, and on earth peace, and good-will towards men ; ' 
and the salutation which the best Master of earth or heaven 
taught His followers and disciples, was, that when they entered 
into any house, they should say, ' Peace be to this house ; ' and 
many other times He said, ' My peace I give unto you, my peace 
I leave with you ; peace be amongst you.' A jewel and a legacy 
worthy of coming from such a hand ! a jewel, without which 
there can be no happiness either in earth or in heaven ! This 
peace is the true end of war ; for to say arms or war, is the 
same thing. Granting, therefore, this truth, that the end of war 
is peace, and that in this it has the advantage of the end pro- 
posed by letters, let us come now to the bodily labours of the 
scholar, and to those of the professor of arms, and let us see 
which are the greatest. 

" I say, then, that the hardships of the scholar are these : In 
the first place, poverty ; not that they are all poor, but I would 
put the case in the strongest manner possible ; and when I have 
said that he endures poverty, methinks no more need be said to 
show his misery ; for he who is poor is destitute of everything. 
But notwithstanding all this, it is not so great but that still he 
eats, though somewhat later than usual, or of the rich man's 
scraps and leavings, or, which is the scholar's greatest misery, 
by going a-begging. Neither do they always want a fire-side or 
chimney-corner of some other person, which, if it does not quite 



106 THE STORY OF DON QUIXOTE 

warm them, at least abates their extreme cold ; and lastly, at 
night they sleep somewhere under cover. I will not mention 
other trifles, such as want of shirts, and no plenty of shoes, or 
the thinness and threadbareness of their clothes. By this painful 
way they arrive to the degree they desire ; which being attained, 
we have seen many who, from a chair, command and govern 
the world ; their hunger converted into fulness, their pinching 
cold into refreshing coolness, their nakedness into embroidery, 
and their sleeping on a mat to reposing in fine linen and 
damask. But their hardships fall far short of those of the 
warrior, as I shall presently show. Since, in speaking of the 
scholar, we began with his poverty, let us see whether the sol- 
dier be richer ; and we shall find that poverty itself is not 
poorer ; for he depends on his wretched pay, which comes late, 
or perhaps never ; or else on what he can pilfer, with great peril 
of his life and conscience. And sometimes his nakedness is such, 
that his laced-jacket serves him both for finery and shirt ; and, 
in the midst of winter, being in the open field, he has nothing 
to warm him but the breath of his mouth which, issuing from 
an empty place, must needs come out cold. But let us wait 
until night, and see whether his bed will make amends for these 
inconveniences ; and that, if it be not his own fault, will never 
offend in point of narrowness : for he may measure out as many 
feet of earth as he pleases, and roll himself thereon at pleasure, 
without fear of rumpling the sheets. Suppose, now, the day and 
hour come of taking the degree of his profession, — I say, sup- 
pose the day of battle come, and then his academical cap will 
be of lint, to cure some wound made by a musket-shot which, 
perhaps, has gone through his temples, or lamed him a leg or 
an arm. And though this should not happen, but merciful 
Heaven should keep and preserve him alive and unhurt, he 
shall remain, perhaps, in the same poverty as before ; and there 
must happen a second and a third engagement, and battle after 
battle, and he must come off victor from them all, to get any- 
thing considerable by it. But these miracles are seldom seen. 
And tell me, gentlemen, how much fewer are they who are 
rewarded for their services in war, than those who have perished 



AND HIS SQUIRE SANCHO PANZA. 107 

in it ? Doubtless there is no comparison between the num- 
bers ; the dead cannot be reckoned up, whereas those who live, 
and are rewarded, may be numbered with three figures. All 
this is quite otherwise with scholars, who are all handsomely 
provided for. Thus, though the hardships of the soldier are 
greater, his reward is less. 

" But let us return to the pre-eminence of arms over letters. 
By arms kingdoms are preserved, cities are guarded, highways 
are secured, and the seas are cleared from corsairs and pirates, 
— in short, were it not for them, kingdoms, monarchies, cities, 
journeys by land, and voyages by sea, would be subject to the 
cruelties and confusion which war carries along with it while it 
lasts, and is at liberty to make use of its privileges and its 
power. Besides, it is past dispute that what costs most the 
attaining is, and ought to be, most esteemed. Now, in order to 
arrive at a degree of eminence in learning, it costs time, watch- 
ing, hunger, nakedness, dizziness in the head, weakness of the 
stomach, and other such like inconveniences, as I have already 
mentioned in part. But for a man to rise gradually to be a 
good soldier costs him all it can cost the scholar, and that in 
so much a greater degree, that there is no comparison, since at 
every step he is in imminent danger of his life. And what dread 
of necessity and poverty can atfect or distress a scholar equal 
to that which a soldier feels, who, being besieged in some for- 
tress, and placed as a sentinel, perceives that the enemy is 
mining towards the place where he stands, and yet must on no 
account stir from his post, or shun the danger that so nearly 
threatens him ? AU that he can do, in such a case, is to give 
notice to his officer of what passes, that he may remedy it by some 
countermine ; and, in the meantime, he must stand his ground, 
fearing and expecting when of a sudden he is to mount to the 
clouds without wings, and then descend headlong to the deep 
against his will. And if this be thought but a trifling danger, 
let us see whether it be equalled or exceeded by the encounter 
of two galleys, prow to prow, in the midst of the wide sea ; 
which, being locked and grappled together, there is no more 
room left for the soldier than the two-foot plank at the beak- 



ICS THE STORY OF DON QUIXOTE 

head : and though he sees as many threatening ministers of 
death before him, as there are pieces of artillery and small-arms 
pointed at him from the opposite side, not the length of a lance 
from his body — and though he knows that the first slip of his 
foot will send him to the bottom, he exposes himself as a mark 
to all their fire, and endeavours by that narrow pass to force 
his way into the enemy's vessel. And what is most to be 
admired is, that scarce is one fallen, whence he cannot arise until 
the end of the world, when another takes his place ; and if he 
also fall into the sea, which lies in wait for him, like an enemy, 
another and another succeeds, without any intermission between 
their deaths ; an instance of bravery and intrepidity the greatest 
that is to be met with in ail the extremities of war. A blessing 
on those happy ages, strangers to the dreadful fury of those 
horrible instruments of artillery ! whose inventor, I verily be- 
lieve, is now receiving the reward of his diabolical invention ; by 
means of which it is in the power of a cowardly and base hand 
to take away the life of the bravest cavalier, and to which is 
owing, that, without knowing how, or from whence, in the 
midst of that resolution and bravery which inflames and ani- 
mates gallant spirits, comes a chance ball, shot off by one who 
perhaps fled and was frightened at the very flash in the pan, 
and, in an instant, puts an end to the thoughts and life of him 
who deserved to have lived for many ages. And therefore, 
when I consider this, I could almost say, I repent of having 
undertaken this profession of knight-errantry in so detestable an 
age as this in which we live ; for, though no danger can daunt 
me, still it gives me some concern to think that powder and 
lead may chance to deprive me of the opportunity of becoming 
famous and renowned by the valour of my arm and edge of my 
sword over the face of the whole earth. But Heaven's will be 
done." 

Don Quixote made this long harangue while the rest were 
eating, forgetting to reach a bit to his mouth, though Sancho 
Panza ever and anon desired him to mind his victuals, telling 
him he would have time enough afterwards to talk as much 
as he pleased. 



AND HIS SQUIRE SANCHO PANZA. IO9 

When day had fairly closed in, the company began to think 
about their nightcaps ; all but Don Quixote, who courteously 
offered to spend the night armed and mounted, outside, to guard 
the castle against attack, whilst the inmates slept. His offer was 
accepted with thanks by his mischievous friends, who forthwith 
left him to his solitary watch ; and presently all were at rest, 
with the exception of the innkeeper's daughter, and her maid 
Maritornes, who, knowing that the knight was standing without 
doors, armed and on horseback, keeping guard, agreed to put 
some trick upon him, or at least to have a little pastime by over- 
hearing some of his extravagant speeches. 

Now, you must know that the inn had no windows towards 
the field, only a kind of spike-hole to the straw-loft, by which 
they took in or threw out their straw. At this hole, then, this 
pair of lasses planted themselves, and perceived that Don 
Quixote was on horseback, leaning on his lance, and uttering 
every now and then such profound sighs, that one would think 
each of them sufficient to tear away his very soul. They heard 
him also say, in a soft, soothing tone, " O my dear Lady Dulcinea 
del Toboso ! and what may your ladyship be now doing ? Art 
thou, peradventure, thinking of thy captive knight, who volun- 
tarily exposes himself to so many perils, merely for thy sake ? O 
thou horned luminary ! bring me tidings of her : perhaps thou 
art now gazing at her, envious of her beauty, as she is walking 
through some gallery of her sumptuous palace, or leaning over 
some balcony, considering how she may assuage the torment 
this poor afflicted heart of mine endures for her sake ; or perhaps 
considering what glory to bestow on my sufferings, what rest on 
my cares, and what reward on my services. And thou, sun, 
who by this time must be hastening to harness thy steeds, to 
come abroad early and visit my mistress, I entreat thee, as soon 
as thou seest her, salute her in my name : but beware when thou 
seest and salutest her, that thou dost not kiss her face ; for I 
shall be jealous of thee." 

Thus far Don Quixote had proceeded in his piteous soliloquy, 
when the innkeeper's daughter began to call softly to him, and 
to say, " Sir, pray come a little this way, if you please." At 



HO THE STORY OF DON QUIXOTE 

which Don Quixote turned his head, and perceiving by the light 
of the moon, which then shone very bright, that somebody called 
him from the spike-hole, which to him seemed a window with 
gilded bars, fit for rich castles, such as he fancied the inn to be, 
it instantly came again into his mad imagination that the fair 
damsel, daughter of the lord of the castle, was irresistibly in 
love with him. With this thought, that he might not appear dis- 
courteous and ungrateful, he turned Rozinante about, and came 
up to the hole ; and, as soon as he saw the two girls, said, " I pity 
you, fair lady, for having placed your inclinations where it is 
impossible for you to meet with a suitable return, such as. your 
great worth and beauty deserve ; yet ought you not to blame 
this unfortunate enamoured knight, whom love has made incap- 
able of engaging his affections to any other than to her whom, 
the moment he laid his eyes on her, he made absolute mistress 
of his soul. Pardon me, good lady, and retire to your chamber ; 
and if there be anything, save my love, which I can yield to your 
commands, I swear to bestow it upon you immediately, though you 
should ask me for a lock of Medusa's hair, which was all snakes, 
or even the sunbeams enclosed in a veil." — " Sir," said Maritor- 
nes, " my lady wants nothing of all this." — " What is it then your 
lady wants, discreet Duenna ? " answered Don Quixote. " Only 
one of your beautiful hands," said Maritornes, " whereby partly 
to satisfy that longing which brought her to this window, so 
much to her peril that, if her lord and father should come to 
know it, the least slice he would whip off would be one of her ears." 
— " I would fain see that," answered Don Quixote. " He had best 
have a care what he does, unless he has a mind to come to the 
most disastrous end that ever father did in the world, for having 
laid violent hands on the delicate members of his beloved 
daughter." Maritornes made no doubt but Don Quixote would 
give his hand, as they had desired ; and so, resolving with her- 
self what she would do, she went down into the stable, from 
whence she took the halter of Sancho Panza's ass, and returned 
very speedily to her spike-hole, just as Don Quixote had got 
upon Rozinante's saddle to reach the gilded window, where he 
imagined the damsel stood ; and, at giving her his hand, he said 



AND HIS SQUIRE SANCHO PANZA. Ill 

" Take, madam, this hand, or rather this chastiser of the evil- 
doers of the world ; which no woman's hand ever touched before. 
I do not give it you to kiss, but only that you may behold the 
contexture of its nerves, the firm knitting of its muscles, the 
largeness and spaciousness of its veins, whence you may gather 
what must be the strength of that arm which has such a hand." — 
" We shall soon see that," said Maritornes ; and making a 
running-knot on the halter, she clapped it on his wrist, then 
descending from the hole, tied the other end of it very fast to 
the staple of the door of the hay-loft. Don Quixote, feeling the 
harshness of the rope about his wrist, said, " You seem rather to 
rasp than grasp my hand : pray, do not treat it so roughly, since 
that is not to blame ; nor is it right to discharge the whole of 
your displeasure on so small a part." But nobody heard a word 
of this, for, as soon as Maritornes had tied Don Quixote up, 
they both went away, ready to die with laughing, leaving him 
fastened in such a manner, that it was impossible for him to get 
loose. | 

He stood, as has been said, upright on Rozinante, his arrn 
within the hole, and tied by the wrist to the bolt of the door, 
in the utmost fear and dread that, if Rozinante stirred ever so 
little one way or other, he must remain hanging by the arm ; 
and therefore he durst not make the least movement, though 
he might well expect, from the sobriety and patience of Rozi- 
nante, that he would stand stock-still an entire century. In 
short, Don Quixote, finding himself tied, and that the ladies 
were gone, began presently to imagine that all this was done in 
the way of enchantment, as the time before, when, in that very 
same castle, the enchanted Moor of a carrier so mauled him. 
Then, within himself, he cursed his own inconsiderateness and 
indiscretion, since having come off so ill before, he had ventured 
to enter in a second time ; it being a rule with knights-errant 
that, when they have once tried an adventure, and cannot 
accomplish it, it is a sign of its not being reserved for them, but 
for somebody else, and therefore there is no necessity for them 
to try it a second time. However, he pulled his arm, to see if 
he could loose himself : but he was so fast tied, that all his 



112 THE STORY OF DON QUIXOTE 

efforts were in vain. It is true, indeed, he pulled gently, lest 
Rozinante should stir ; and though he would fain have got into 
the saddle, and have sat down, he could not, but must stand up, 
or pull off his hand. Now he wished for Amadis's sword, 
against which no enchantment had any power ; and now he 
cursed his fortune. Then he exaggerated the loss the world 
would have of his presence, all the while he should stand there 
enchanted, as, without doubt, he believed he was. Then he 
bethought himself afresh of his beloved Dulcinea del Toboso. 
Then he called upon his good squire Sancho Panza, who, 
buried in sleep, and stretched upon his ass's pack-saddle, did 
not, at that instant, so much as dream of his own mother. 
Then he invoked the sages Lirgandeo and Alquife to help him ; 
then he called upon his special friend Urganda to assist him ; 
lastly, then the morning overtook him, so despairing and con- 
founded, that he bellowed like a bull ; for, accounting himself 
enchanted, he concluded it would be eternal : and he was the 
more induced to believe it, seeing Rozinante budged not at all ; 
and he verily thought that himself and his horse must remain 
in that posture, without eating, drinking, or sleeping, until some 
more sage enchanter should disenchant him. 

But he was much mistaken in his belief ; for scarcely did the 
day begin to dawn, when four men on horseback arrived at the 
inn, very well appointed and accoutred, with carbines hanging 
at the pommels of their saddles. They called at the inn-door, 
which was not yet opened, knocking very hard ; which Don 
Quixote perceiving, from the place where he still stood sentinel, 
he cried out, with an arrogant and loud voice, " Knights, or 
squires, or whoever you are, you have no business to knock at 
the gate of this castle ; for t is very plain that, at such hours, 
they who are within are either asleep, or do not use to open 
the gates of their fortress until the sun has spread his beams 
over the whole horizon. Get farther off, and stay until clear day- 
light ; and then we shall see whether it is fit to open to you or 
no." — " What sort of a fortress or castle is this,'' said one of 
them, " to oblige us to observe all this ceremony ? If you are 
the innkeeper, make somebody open the door ; for we are 



AND HIS SQUIRE SANCHO PANZA. II3 

travellers, and only want to bait our horses, and go on, as we 
are in haste." — " Do you think, gentlemen, that I look like an 
innkeeper ?" answered Don Quixote. " I know not what you 
look like," answered the other ; " but I am sure you talk pre- 
posterously, to call this inn a castle." — " It is a castle," replied 
Don Quixote, " and one of the best in this whole province ; and 
it has in it persons who have had sceptres in their hands, and 
crowns on their heads." The querist's comrades, tired with the 
dialogue between him and Don Quixote, now knocked again 
with greater violence, and in such a manner, that the innkeeper 
awaked, and all the rest of the people that were in the inn ; 
and the host got up to ask who knocked. 

Now it fell out that one of the strangers' horses came, in 
amiable mood, up to Rozinante, who could not but kindly poke 
his nose out to him in return ; but scarce had he stirred a step, 
when Don Quixote's feet slipped, and, tumbling from the saddle, 
he had fallen to the ground, had he not hung by the arm. 
This put him to so much torture, that he fancied his wrist was 
cutting off, or his arm tearing from his body ; yet he hung so 
near the ground, that he could just reach it with the tip of his 
toes, which turned to his prejudice ; for, feeling how little he 
wanted to set his feet to the ground, he strove and stretched as 
much as he could to reach it quite, roaring out so terribly, that 
the host in a fright opened the door hastily to see who it was 
that made those outcries ; nor were the strangers less surprised. 
Maritornes, who was also waked by the same noise, imagining 
what it was, went to the straw-loft, and, without anybody's 
seeing her, untied the halter, whereupon Don Quixote straight 
fell to the ground in sight cf the innkeeper and the travellers 
who, coming up to him, asked him what ailed him, that he so 
cried out ? He, without answering a word, slipped the rope 
from his wrist, and raising himself up on his feet, mounted Rozi- 
nante, braced his target, couched his lance, and, taking a good 
compass about the field, came up at a half-gallop, saying, 
" Whoever shall dare to affirm that I was fairly enchanted, 
provided my sovereign lady the Princess Micomicona gives me 
leave, I say he lies, and I challenge him to a single combat." 

H 



1 14 THE STORY OF DON QUIXOTE 

The new-comers were amazed at his words ; but the innkeeper 
removed their wonder by telling them who Don Quixote was, 
and that they should not mind him, for he was beside himself. 

By this time it was broad day, which, together with the 
noise made by our knight, had raised the whole house. Don 
Quixote, perceiving that none of the four travellers minded him, 
nor answered to his challenge, was dying and running mad with 
rage ; and could he have found a precedent in the statutes and 
ordinances of chivalry that a knight-errant might lawfully 
undertake any other adventure, after having given his word 
and faith not to engage in any new enterprise until he had 
finished what he had promised, he would have attacked and 
made them answer him whether they would or no. As it was, 
he thought it best to be quiet ; and as daylight had lawfully 
released him from his guard, he re-entered the inn, where 
presently another brawl arose, owing to two guests, who had 
lodged there that night, attempting to go off without paying their 
reckoning. But the host laid hold of them as they were going 
out. of the door, and demanded his money, giving them such 
hard words for their civil intention, that he provoked them to 
return him an answer with their fists ; which they did so roundly, 
that the poor innkeeper was forced to call out for help. The 
hostess and her daughter, seeing nobody so proper to succour 
him as Don Quixote, the daughter said to him, " Sir Knight, I 
beseech your valour to come and help my poor father, whom a 
couple of wicked fellows are beating to mummy." To whom Don 
Quixote answered, very leisurely, and with much indifference, 
" Fair maiden, your petition cannot be granted at present, 
because I am incapacitated from intermeddling in any other 
adventure until I have accomplished one I have already en- 
gaged my word for ; what I can do for you is this : do you run 
and bid your father maintain the fight as best he can, and 
in no wise suffer himself to be vanquished, while I go and ask 
permission of the Princess Micomicona to relieve him in distress, 
which, if she grants me, rest assured I will bring him out of 
it." — " Humph," said Maritornes, who stood by, " before your 
worship can obtain the licence you talk of my master may be 



AND HIS SQUIRE SANCHO PANZA. 115 

killed."' — " Permit me, madam, to obtain the licence I spenk of," 
answered Don Quixote. And, without saying a word more, he 
went and kneeled down before Dorothea, beseeching that her 
grandeur would vouchsafe to give him, leave to go and succour 
the governor of that castle, who was in grievous distress. The 
princess gave it him very graciously ; and he presently, bracing 
on his target, and drawing his sword, ran to the inn-door, where 
the two guests were still lugging and worrying the poor host ; 
but, when he came, he stopped short and stood irresolute, 
though Maritornes and the hostess asked him why he delayed 
succouring their master and husband. "I delay, said Don 
Quixote, " because it is not lawful for me to draw my sword 
against squire-like folks ; but call hither my squire Sancho, for 
to him this defence and revenge does most properly belong." 
This passed at the door of the inn, where the boxing and cuffing 
went about briskly, to the innkeeper's cost, and the rage of 
Maritornes, the hostess, and her daughter, who were ready to 
run distracted to behold the cowardice of Don Quixote, and the 
injury then doing to their master, husband, and father. 

Before long the innkeeper and his guests had made peace, 
more through the persuasion and arguments of Don Quixote 
than his threats, and he had been paid all he demanded. But 
at that very instant came into the inn the barber from whom 
Don Quixote had taken Mambrino's helmet, and Sancho Panza 
the ass furniture, which he trucked for his own ; which barber, 
leading his beast to the stable, espied Sancho Panza, who was 
mending something about the pannel, and at once set upon him, 
saying, " Ah, mister thief, have I got you now ? Give me my 
basin and my pack-saddle with all the harness you robbed me 
of/' Sancho, finding himself attacked so unexpectedly, and 
hearing the opprobrious language given him, with one hand 
held fast the pack-saddle, and with the other gave the barber 
such a thump as made his head ring. For all that the barber 
did not let go his hold ; on the contrary, he raised his voice in 
such a manner, that all the folks of the inn ran together at the 
noise and scufiie, he crying out, ' : Help, in the king's name, for 
this rogue and highway robber would murder me for endeavour- 



Il6 ' THE ST03.Y OF DON QUIXOTE 

ing to recover my own goods." — "You lie," answered Sancho ; 
" I am no highway robber ; my master Don Quixote won these 
spoils in fair war." Don Quixote was now present ; and, not a 
little pleased to see how well his squire performed both on the 
defensive and offensive, from thenceforward took him for a man 
of mettle, resolving in his mind to dub him a knight the first 
opportunity that offered, thinking the order of chivalry would 
be very well bestowed upon him. 

Now, among other things which the barber said during the 
skirmish, " Gentlemen," said he, " this pack-saddle is certainly 
mine ; I know it as if it were a child of my own ; and yonder 
stands my ass in the stable, who will not suffer me to lie ; 
pray do but try it, and, if it does not fit him to a hair, let me be 
infamous ; and moreover, by the same token, the very day they 
took this from me, they robbed me likewise of a new brass 
basin, never hanselled, that was worth a crown." Here Don 
Quixote could not forbear thrusting himself between the two 
combatants ; then, parting them, and making them lay down 
the pack-saddle on the ground in public view, he said, "Sirs, 
you shall presently see clearly and manifestly the error this 
honest squire is in, in calling that a basin which was, is, and 
ever shall be, Mambrino's helmet ; I won it in fair war, so am 
its right and lawful possessor. As to the pack-saddle, I inter- 
meddle not : what I can say of that matter is, that my squire 
Sancho asked my leave to take the trappings of this conquered 
coward's horse, to adorn his own withal ; I gave him leave ; he 
took them, and if from horse-trappings they are metamorphosed 
into an ass's pack-saddle, I can give no other reason for it but 
that common one, that these kinds of transformations are fre- 
quent in adventures of chivalry ; for confirmation of which, run, 
son Sancho, and fetch hither the helmet, which this honest man 
will needs have to be a basin." — " In faith, sir," said Sancho, 
" if we have no other proof of our cause but what your worship 
mentions, Mambrino's helmet will prove as errant a basin as 
this honest man's trappings are a pack-saddle." — " Do what I 
bid you," replied Don Quixote ; " for sure, all things in this 
castle cannot be governed by enchantment." Sancho went for 



AND HIS SQUIRE SANCHO PANZA. llj 

the basin, and brought it ; and as soon as Don Quixote saw it, 
he took it in his hands, and said, " Behold, gentlemen, with 
what face can this squire pretend this to be a basin, and not 
the helmet I have mentioned ? I swear by the order of knight- 
hood, which I profess, this helmet is the very same I took from 
him, without addition or diminution." — " There is no doubt of 
that," answered Sancho ; " for, from the time my master won it 
until now, he has fought but one battle in it, which was when 
he freed those unlucky galley-slaves ; and had it not been for 
this basin-helmet, he had not then got off over-well, for he had 
a power of stones hurled at him in that skirmish." 

" Pray, gentlemen," said the barber, " what is your opinion of 
what these gentlefolks affirm ? for they persist in it that this is 
no basin, but a helmet." — " And whoever shall affirm the con- 
trary," said Don Quixote, " I will make him know, if he be a 
knight, that he lies, and, if a squire, that he lies, and lies again 
a thousand times." Our barber, who was present all the while, 
and well acquainted with Don Quixote's humour, had a mind to 
carry on the jest ; so, addressing himself to the other barber, he 
said, " Signor Barber, know that I also am of your profession, 
and am very well acquainted with all the instruments of barber- 
surgery. I have likewise been a soldier in my youthful days, 
and therefore know what is a helmet, and what a morrion or 
steel cap, and what a casque with its beaver. And I say (with 
submission always to better judgments) that this piece here 
before us, which this honest gentleman holds in his hands, not 
only is not a barber's basin, but is as far from being so as 
white is from black, and truth from falsehood. I say also that, 
though it be a helmet, it is not a complete one." — " No, cer- 
tainly," said Don Quixote; " for the beaver, that should make 
half of it, is wanting." — "It is so," said the priest, who saw 
his friend the barber's design ; and the others confirmed the 
same. 

" Heaven help me ! " said the bantered barber, " how is it 
possible that so many honest gentlemen should maintain that 
this is not a basin, but a helmet ? Well, if this basin be a 
helmet, then this pack-saddle must needs be a horse's furniture, 



1 1 8 THE STORY OF DON QUIXOTE 

as this gentleman has said." — " To me it seems indeed to be a 
pack-saddle," said Don Quixote ; " but I have already told you 
I will not intermeddle with the dispute, whether it be an ass's 
pack-saddle, or a horse's furniture." — " All that remains," said 
the priest, " is, that Signor Don Quixote declare his opinion ; 
for, in matters of chivalry, all these gentlemen, and myself, yield 
him the preference." — " I vow, gentlemen," said Don Quixote, 
' : so many and such unaccountable things have befallen me 
twice that I have lodged in this castle, that I dare not venture 
to vouch positively for anything that may be asked me about it ; 
for I am of opinion that everything passes in it by the way of 
enchantment. The first time, I was very much harassed by an 
enchanted Moor that was in it, and Sancho fared little better 
among some of his followers ; and to-night I hung almost two 
hours by this arm, without being able to guess how I came to 
fall into that mischance. And therefore, for me to meddle now 
in so confused a business, and to be giving my opinion, would 
be to spend my judgment rashly. As to the question, whether 
this be a basin or a helmet, I have already answered ; but 
as to declaring whether this be a pack-saddle or a caparison, I 
dare not pronounce sentence, but remit it, gentlemen, to your 
discretion : perhaps, not being dubbed knights, as I am, the 
enchantments of this place may have no power over you, and so 
you may judge of the things of this castle as they really and 
truly are, and not as they appear to me." 

Upon this, one of the gentlemen present offered to collect 
votes on the matter ; and, whispering first to one, then to 
another, as though asking him his opinion, at last said aloud, 
i: The truth is, honest friend, I am quite weary of collecting so 
many votes ; for I ask nobody that does not tell me it is ridicu- 
lous to say this is an ass's pack-saddle, and not a horse's 
caparison, and even that of a well-bred horse ; so that you must 
have patience, for, in spite of you and your ass too, this is a 
caparison, and no pack-saddle." — " May I never break bread," 
said the bantered barber, "if your worships are not all mis- 
taken ; I say this is a pack-saddle, and not a caparison ; but, 
'needs must when somebody drives,' — I say no more; and 



AND HIS SQUIRE SANCHO PANZA. 119 

verily I am not drunk, for I am fasting from everything but 
sin. • 

The barber's simplicities caused no less laughter than the 
follies of Don Quixote, who, at this juncture, said, "There is 
now no more to be done, but for every one to take what is his 
own ; and much good may it do him." Just then, one of the 
officers of justice who had overheard the dispute, full of choler 
and indignation, said, " It is as much a pack-saddle as my father 
is my father ; and whoever says, or shall say, to the contrary, 
must be drunk." — " You lie like a pitiful scoundrel," answered 
Don Quixote. And, lifting up his lance, which he never had let 
go out of his hand, he gave him such a blow over the head, 
that, had not the officer slipped aside, he had been laid flat on 
the spot. The lance was broken to splinters on the ground ; 
and the other officers, seeing their comrade abused, cried out 
lor help. The innkeeper, who was one of the troop, ran in 
that instant for his wand and his sword, and prepared himself 
to stand by his comrades. The barber, perceiving the house 
turned topsy-turvy, laid hold again of his pack-saddle, and 
Sancho did the same. Don Quixote drew his sword, and fell 
upon the troopers. The priest cried out, the hostess shrieked, 
her daughter roared, Maritornes wept, Dorothea was con- 
founded. The barber cuffed Sancho, Sancho pommelled the 
barber ; and all the rest were squabbling and fighting. The 
innkeeper called out afresh, demanding aid for the officers 
of justice. Thus the whole inn was nothing but weeping, 
cries, shrieks, confusions, fears, frights, mischances, cuffs, 
cudgellings, and kicks ; and, in the midst of this chaos, it 
came into Don Quixote's fancy that he was plunged over head 
and ears in all the discord of war in an enemy's camp ; so he 
cried out, with a voice which made the inn shake, " Hold, all of 
you ! all put up your swords ; be pacified all, and hearken to me, 
if you would all continue alive ! " At which tremendous voice 
they all desisted, and he went on, saying, "Did I not tell you, 
sirs, that this castle was enchanted, and that some legion of 
imps must certainly inhabit it ? " And with that, he prayed 
them to make peace among themselves, as it was a thousand 



120 THE STORY OF DON QUIXOTE. 

pities so many gentlemen of quality should kill one another for 
such trivial matters. The barber submitted ; for both his beard 
and his pack-saddle were demolished in the scuffle. Sancho, as 
became a dutiful servant, obeyed the least voice of his master ; 
others were also quiet, seeing how little they got by being other- 
wise. The innkeeper alone was refractory, and insisted that 
the insolencies of that madman ought to be chastised, who 
at every foot turned the inn upside-down. At last the bustle 
ceased for the time ; the pack-saddle was to remain a capari- 
son, the basin a helmet, and the inn a castle, in Don Quixote's 
imagination, until the day of judgment. 




CHAPTER IX. 

Don Quixote seized by officers of justice — Carried home in a 
cage by his friends. 

T might have been thought there was mischief enough 
done for one day. But it was not so ; for one of the 
troopers who had been kicked and mauled pretty hand- 
somely in the scuffle, bethought him that among some 
warrants he had about him for apprehending certain delinquents, 
was one against Don Quixote, for setting the galley-slaves at 
liberty. So pulling a parchment out of his bosom, and setting 
himself to read it leisurely (for he was no great clerk), at every 
word he read he fixed his eyes on Don Quixote, and finding that 
he must be the person therein described, he rolled up the parch- 
ment, and holding the warrant in his left hand, with his right 
laid fast hold on Don Quixote by the collar. The knight finding 
himself so roughly handled, trembling with rage, caught the 
trooper by the throat, as well as he could, with both hands ; and, 
had not the man been rescued by his comrades, he had lost his 
life before Don Quixote had loosed his hold. The innkeeper, 
who was bound to aid and assist his brethren in office, ran im- 
mediately to his assistance. The hostess, seeing her husband 
again engaged in battle, raised her voice anew. Her daughter 
and Maritornes joined in the same tune, praying aid from 
Heaven, and from the standers-by. Sancho, seeing what passed, 
said, " As sure as taxes, my master says true concerning the en- 
chantments of this castle ; for it is impossible to live an hour in 
quiet in it." The two were at length parted, much to their own 
content; but the troopers did not desist from demanding to have 



122 THE STORY OF DON QUIXOTE 

their prisoner bound and delivered up to them ; for so the king's 
service required ; in whose name they again demanded help and 
assistance in apprehending that common robber, footpad, and 
highwayman. Don Quixote smiled to hear these expressions, 
and with great calmness, said, " Come hither, base and ill-born 
crew ; call ye it robbing on the highway to loose the chains of 
the captive, to set the imprisoned free, to succour the miserable, 
to raise the fallen and cast-down, and to relieve the needy and 
distressed ? Ah, scoundrel race ! undeserving, by the meanness 
and baseness of your understandings, that Heaven should reveal 
to you the worth inherent in knight-errantry, or make you sen- 
sible of your own sin and ignorance in not reverencing the very 
shadow, and much more the presence, of any knight-errant 
whatever ! Come hither, ye rogues in a troop, and not troopers, 
highwaymen with the licence of justice, tell me who was the 
blockhead that signed the warrant for apprehending such a 
knight-errant as I am ? Who was he that knew not that knights- 
errant are exempt from all judicial authority, that their sword is 
their law, their bravery their privileges, and their will their 
edicts ? Who was the madman, I say again, that is ignorant 
that no patent of gentility contains so many privileges and 
exemptions as are acquired by the knight-errant the day he is 
dubbed, and gives himself up to the rigorous exercise of chivalry ? 
What knight-errant ever paid custom, poll-tax, subsidy, quit- 
rent, porterage, or ferry-boat ? What tailor ever brought in a 
bill for making his clothes ? What governor, that lodged him 
in his castle, ever made him pay a reckoning ? What king did 
not seat him at his table ? What damsel was not in love with 
him ? and, lastly, what knight-errant has there ever been, is, or 
shall be, in the world, who has not courage singly to bestow four 
hundred bastinadoes on four hundred troopers like you, that shall 
dare to present themselves before him ? " 

While he was talking at this rate, the priest was endeavour- 
ing to persuade the troopers that Don Quixote was out of his 
wits, as they might easily perceive by what he did and said, and 
that they need not give themselves any farther trouble upon that 
subject ; for, though they should apprehend and carry him away, 



AND HIS SQUIRE SANCHO PANZA. 1 23 

they must soon release him, as being a madman. To which the 
officer that had produced the warrant answered, that it was no 
business of his to judge of Don Quixote's madness, but to obey 
the orders of his superior ; and that, when he had once secured 
him, they might set him free three hundred times if they pleased. 
" For all that," said the priest, " for this once you must not take 
him, nor do I think he will suffer himself to be taken." In 
effect, the priest said so much, and Don Quixote did such ex- 
travagancies, that the officers must have been more mad than 
he, had they not discovered his infirmity ; and therefore they 
judged it best to be quiet, and moreover to be mediators between 
the barber and Sancho Panza, who still continued their scuffle 
with great rancour. At last, they, as officers of justice, com- 
pounded the matter, and settled it in such a manner, that both 
parties rested, if not entirely contented, at least somewhat satis- 
fied ; for they exchanged pack-saddles, but not girths or hal- 
ters. As for Mambrino's helmet, the priest, underhand and 
unknown to Don Quixote, gave a crown for the bason ; and the 
barber gave him a discharge in full, acquitting him of all fraud 
from thenceforth and for evermore, amen. 

Don Quixote now finding he was freed, threw himself on his 
knees before the beautiful Dorothea, entreating that they might 
at once set out on his adventure to restore her to her dominions. 
The lady raised him, and graciously giving her consent to his 
prayer, the knight bade Sancho instantly saddle Rozinante, and 
make ready his own ass, and her majesty's palfrey, for their 
departure from the castle. Upon which, Sancho, shaking his 
head, said, "Ah, master, master, there are more tricks in a town 
than are dreamt of, with all respect be it spoken."— " What 
tricks can there be to my discredit in any town, or in all the 
towns in the world, thou bumpkin?" said Don Quixote. "If 
your worship puts yourself into a passion," answered Sancho, 
" I will hold my tongue, and forbear to say what I am bound 
to tell, as a faithful squire and a dutiful servant ought to his 
master." — " Say what you will," replied Don Quixote, " so your 
words tend not to making me afraid : if you are afraid, you do 
but like yourself ; and if I am not afraid, I do like myself." — 



124 THE STORY OF DON QUIXOTE 

" Nothing of all this, as I am a sinner," answered Sancho ; 
" only that I am sure and positively certain, that this lady, who 
calls herself queen of the great kingdom of Micomicon, is no 
more a queen than my mother. I say this, sir, because, sup- 
posing that, after we have travelled through thick and thin, and 
passed many bad nights and worse days, one, who is now 
solacing himself in this inn, should chance to reap the fruit of 
our labours, I need be in no haste to saddle Rozinante, or to 
get the ass and the palfrey ready ; for we had better be quiet ; 
and let every lass mind her spinning, and let us to dinner." 
Stars and garters ! how great was the indignation of Don 
Quixote at hearing his squire speak thus disrespectfully ! so 
great, that, with speech stammering, tongue faltering, and 
living fire darting from his eyes, he said, " Scoundrel ! design- 
ing, unmannerly, ignorant, ill-spoken, foul-mouthed, impudent, 
murmuring, and back-biting villain ! darest thou utter such 
words in my presence, and in the presence of these illustrious 
ladies ? and hast thou dared to entertain such rude and insolent 
thoughts in thy confused imagination ? Avoid my presence, 
monster of nature, treasury of lies, magazine of deceits, store- 
house of rogueries, inventor of mischiefs, publisher of absurdities, 
and enemy of the respect due to royal personages ! Begone ! 
appear not before me, on pain of my indignation." And in 
saying this, he arched his brows, puffed his cheeks, stared 
round about him, and gave a violent stamp with his right foot 
on the floor — all manifest tokens of the rage locked up in his 
breast. At whose words and furious gestures Sancho was so 
frightened, that he would have been glad the earth had opened 
that instant and swallowed him up. And he knew not what to 
do, but to turn his back, and get out of the enraged presence of 
his master. 

" Her majesty," however, persuaded the knight to forgive his 
squire, who had offended from ignorance, not from wilfulness ; 
and Sancho, who came in very humbly, falling down on his 
knees, begged his master's hand, who gave it him ; and, after 
he had let him kiss it, he gave him his blessing, saying, " Now 
you will be thoroughly convinced, son Sancho, of what I have 



AND HIS SQUIRE SANCHO PANZA. 125 

often told you before, that all things in this castle are done by 
way of enchantment." — " I believe so too," said Sancho, "except- 
ing the business of the blanket, which really fell out in the 
ordinary way." — " Do not believe it," answered Don Quixote ; 
" for, were it so, I would have revenged you at that time, and 
even now. But neither could I then, nor can I now, find on 
whom to revenge the injury." They all desired to know what 
that business of the blanket was; and the innkeeper gave them 
a very circumstantial account of Sancho Panza's tossing, at 
which they were not a little diverted. And Sancho would have 
been no less ashamed, if his master had not assured him afresh 
that it was all enchantment, which yet that faithful squire could 
not bring himself to believe. 

The next business was how to get Don Quixote home, to be 
cured of his madness, if that might be ; and the device hit upon, 
was to bind him hand and foot, as he lay in bed, put him into 
a kind of cage, which they constructed of poles placed cross- 
ways, and then mount this upon a waggon drawn by a team ot 
oxen : all done under pretence to him of its being enchantment. 
The knight submitted to this harsh usage without saying a word, 
until his cage (in which they had nailed him up fast) was got 
upon the waggon, when he exclaimed :— " Many and most grave 
histories have I read of knights-errant ; but I never read, saw, 
or heard of enchanted knights being carried away after this 
manner, and so slowly as these lazy, heavy animals seem to 
promise. For they always used to be carried through the air 
with wonderful speed, wrapped up in some thick and dark 
cloud, or in some chariot of fire, or mounted upon a hippogrif, 
or some such beast. But, to be carried upon a team drawn by 
oxen, puts me into confusion. But, perhaps, the chivalry and 
enchantments of these our times may have taken a different 
turn from those of the ancients ; and, perhaps also, as I am a 
new knight in the world, and the first who have revived the 
long-forgotten exercise of knight-errantry, there may have been 
lately invented other kinds of enchantments, and other methods 
of carrying away those that are enchanted." 

The cavalcade, after Don Quixote had taken a courteous 



126 THE STORY OF DON QUIXOTE 

leave of the hostess, her daughter, and Maritornes, then 
marched out : first the car, guided by the owner ; on each 
side went a trooper with his firelock ; then followed Sancho 
upon his ass, leading Rozinante by the bridle, who had the 
buckler hung at one side of his pommel, the basin on the 
other ; the priest and the barber, their faces masked, brought 
up the rear on their mules, with a grave and solemn air, march- 
ing no faster than the slow pace of the oxen allowed. Don 
Quixote sat in the cage, with his hands tied, and his legs 
stretched out, leaning against the bars, with as much patience 
and silence as if he had not been a man of flesh and blood, but 
a statue of stone. 

Sancho, it must be said, was not a little displeased at seeing 
his master treated in this manner, protesting that he was no 
more enchanted than his own mother ; and he took the priest 
roundly to task for playing such tricks upon the knight as 
hindered his going about to succour distressed persons, accord- 
ing to his vow. He also pretty hotly told Don Quixote him- 
self, that his being enchanted was all a lie ; for the enchanters 
who guarded him in that cage were none other than his old 
friends the priest and the barber ; who, he supposed, had played 
him this shabby trick out of envy of his achievements. But 
this the knight would not for one moment credit ; knowing, as 
he assured Sancho, that none, save supernatural force, could 
ever have fastened him up in a cage. 

At midday they rested in a delicious, green meadow, and the 
knight, being let out of his prison for awhile, was not a little 
pleased to stretch his legs, which were rather cramped with 
being so long cooped up. Then their dinner was spread upon 
the grass ; and a goatherd, who chanced to come up, was 
hospitably invited to join them. The man, eyeing Don Quixote 
all over, whispered to the barber to tell him who that strange 
figure was that talked so extravagantly ? " Who should it be," 
answered the barber, " but the famous Don Quixote de la 
Mancha, the redresser of injuries, the righter of wrongs, the 
relief of maidens, the dread of giants, and the conqueror of 
battles ? " — " This," said the goatherd, " is like what we read 



AND HIS SQUIRE SANCHO PANZA. 1 27 

of in the books of knights-errant, who did all that you tell me 
of this man ; though, as I take it, either your worship is in 
jest, or the apartments in this gentleman's skull are un- 
furnished." — " You are a very great rascal," said Don Quixote, 
at this instant, " and you are the empty-skulled, and the 
shallow-brained ; for mine is fuller than ever was the head- 
piece of any of your vile generation." And, so saying, and 
muttering on, he snatched up a loaf that was near him, and 
with it struck the goatherd full in the face with so much fury, 
that he laid his nose flat. The goatherd, without any respect 
to the carpet or table-cloth, or to the company that sat about it, 
at once leaped upon Don Quixote, and, griping him by the 
throat with both hands, would doubtless have strangled him, 
had not Sancho Panza come up in that instant, and, taking- 
him by the shoulders, thrown him back on the table, breaking 
the dishes and platters, and spilling and overturning all that 
was upon it. Don Quixote, finding himself loose, ran at the 
goatherd, who, being kicked and trampled upon by Sancho, 
and his face all over dirt, was feeling about, upon all fours, 
for some knife or other, to take revenge withal; but he was 
prevented ; and the barber contrived it so, that the goatherd 
got Don Quixote under him, on whom he poured a shower 
of buffets. The priest was ready to burst with laughter ; the 
troopers danced and capered for joy ; and they stood hallooing 
them on, as people do dogs when they are fighting ; only 
Sancho was at his wits' end, not being able to get loose from 
one of the servants, who held him from going to assist his 
master. In short, while all were in high joy and merriment, 
excepting the two combatants, who were still worrying one 
another, on a sudden they heard the sound of a trumpet, 
so dismal, that it made them turn their faces towards the 
way from whence they fancied the sound came ; and Don 
Quixote, who, though he was under the goatherd, sorely against 
his will, and more than indifferently mauled, said to him, 
" Brother imp (for it is impossible you should be anything 
else, since you have had the valour and strength to subdue 
mine), truce, I beseech you, for one hour ; for the dolorous 



128 THE STORY OF DON QUIXOTE 

sound of that trumpet seems to summon me to some new 
adventure." The goatherd, who by this time was pretty well 
weary of mauling and being mauled, immediately let him go, 
and Don Quixote, getting upon his legs, turned his face toward 
the place whence the sound came, and presently saw several 
people arrayed in white, descending from a rising ground. 

The case was, that the clouds that year had 'failed to refresh 
the earth with seasonable showers, and throughout all the 
villages of that district they made processions, and public 
prayers, beseeching God to open the hands of His mercy and 
send them rain. For this purpose the people of a town hard 
by were coming in procession to a hermitage, built upon the 
side of a hill bordering upon that valley. Don Quixote, per- 
ceiving their strange attire, imagined it was some adventure, 
and that it belonged to him alone, as a knight-errant, to under- 
take it ; and he was the more confirmed in this fancy by think- 
ing, that an image they had with them, covered with black, 
was some lady whom those discourteous ruffians were forcing 
away. No sooner had he taken this into his head, than he ran 
with great agility to Rozinante, who was grazing about ; then 
taking the bridle and buckler from the pommel of his saddle, 
bridled him in a trice, and, demanding from Sancho his sword, 
mounted Rozinante, braced his target, and with a loud voice 
said to all present, u Now, my worthy companions, you shall 
see of what consequence it is that there are in the world such 
as profess the order of chivalry ; now, I say, you shall see by 
my restoring liberty to that good lady, who is carried captive 
yonder, whether knights-errant are to be valued or not." And 
so saying, he laid legs to Rozinante (for spurs he had none), 
and on a hand-gallop (which was Rozinante's best speed), ran 
to encounter the enemy. The priest and the barber in vain 
endeavoured to stop him ; and in vain did Sancho cry out, 
saying, " Whither go you, signor Don Quixote ? what pos- 
sesses you ? have a care what you do ; for this once I am sure 
you do not know what you are about." Sancho wearied him- 
self to no purpose ; for his master was so bent upon encounter- 
ing the men in white, and delivering the mourning lady, that 



AND HIS SQUIRE SANCHO PANZA. 1 29 

he heard not a word, and, if he had, would not have come 
back, though the king himself had commanded him. 

Being now come up to the procession, he checked Rozinante, 
and with a disordered and hoarse voice, said, "You there, who 
cover your faces, for no good, I suppose, stop and give ear to 
what I shall say." The first who stopped were they who carried 
the image ; and one of the four ecclesiastics, who sang the lit- 
anies, observing the strange figure of Don Quixote, the leanness 
of Rozinante, and other ridiculous circumstances attending the 
knight, answered him, saying, " Good brother, if you have any- 
thing to say to us, say it quickly in two words." — " I will say it 
in one," replied Don Quixote, " and it is this, that you im- 
mediately set at liberty that fair lady, whose tears and sorrowful 
countenance are evident tokens of her being carried away 
against her will, and that you have done her some notorious in- 
jury ; and I, who was born into the world on purpose to redress 
such wrongs, will not suffer you to proceed one step farther, 
until you have given her the liberty she desires and deserves." 
By these expressions, all that heard them gathered that Don 
Quixote must be some madman, whereupon they fell a laugh- 
ing very heartily, which was adding fuel to the fire of his rage ; 
for, without saying a word more, he drew his sword and at- 
tacked the bearers, one of whom stepped forward to encounter 
Don Quixote, brandishing a pole whereon he rested the bier 
when they made a stand. Receiving on this a huge stroke which 
the knight let fly at him, and which broke it in two, with what 
remained of it he gave Don Quixote such a blow on the 
shoulder of his sword-arm, that, his' target not being able to 
ward off so furious an assualt, the poor man fell to the ground 
in evil plight. Sancho Panza, who came puffing close after him, 
perceiving him fallen, called out to his adversary not to strike 
him again, for he was a poor enchanted knight, who never had 
done anybody harm in all the days of his life. But that which 
made the rustic forbear, was not Sancho's crying out, but his see- 
ing that Don Quixote stirred neither hand nor foot ; and so, be- 
lieving he had killed him, in all haste he tucked up his frock in his 
girdle, and began to fly away over the field as nimble as a buck. 

I 



130 THE STORY OF DON QUIXOTE 

As for Sancho, he threw himself upon the body of his master, 
and poured forth the most dolorous and ridiculous lamentation 
in the world, believing verily he was dead ; saying, with tears in 
his eyes, " O flower of chivalry, who by one single thwack hath 
finished the career of thy well-spent life ! O glory of thy race, 
credit and renown of La Mancha, yea of the whole world, 
which, by wanting thee, will be overrun with evil-doers, who 
will no longer fear the being chastised for their iniquities ! O 
liberal above all Alexanders, seeing that, for eight months' ser- 
vice only, thou hast given me the best island the sea doth com- 
pass or surround. O thou — in a word, knight-errant, which is 
all that can be said ! " At Sancho's cries and lamentations 
Don Quixote revived, and the first word he said was, " He who 
lives absented from thee, sweetest Dulcinea, is subject to greater 
miseries than these. Kelp, friend Sancho, to lay me upon the 
enchanted car ; for I am no longer in a condition to press the 
saddle of Rozinante, all this shoulder being mashed to pieces." — 
" That I will do with all my heart, dear sir," answered Sancho ; 
" and let us return home in company of these gentlemen, who 
wish you well, and there we will give order about another sally, 
that may prove of more profit and renown." — " You say well, 
Sancho," answered Don Quixote ; " and it will be great prudence 
in us to wait until the evil influence of the stars, which now 
reigns, is over-passed." The priest and the barber told him 
they approved his resolution ; and so they placed him in the 
waggon, as before. The waggoner yoked his oxen, accommo- 
dated Don Quixote on a truss of hay, and with his accustomed 
pace, jogged on the way the priest directed. On the sixth day 
they arrived at Don Quixote's village, and entered it about 
noon ; when, it being Sunday, all the people were standing in 
the market-place, through the midst of which Don Quixote's 
car must of necessity pass. Everybody ran to see who was in 
the waggon, and, when they found it was their townsman, they 
were greatly surprised ; and a boy ran full speed to acquaint the 
housekeeper and niece, that their uncle and master was coming 
home, weak and pale, and stretched upon a truss of hay in 
a waggon drawn by oxen. It was piteous to hear the out- 



AND HIS SQUIRE SANCHO PANZA. 131 

cries the two good women raised, to see the buffets they gave 
themselves, and how they cursed afresh the vile books of 
chivalry ; and all this was renewed by seeing Don Quixote 
coming in at the gate. 

Upon the news of Don Quixote's arrival, Sancho Panza's wife, 
who knew her husband was gone with him to serve him as his 
squire, repaired thither ; and as soon as she saw Sancho, the 
first thing she asked him was, whether the ass was come home 
well. Sancho answered he was, and in a better condition than 
his master. " Heaven be praised ! " replied she. " But tell me, 
friend, what good have you got by your squireship ? what petti- 
coat do you bring home to me, and what shoes to your chil- 
dren ?" — " I bring nothing of all this, dear wife," said Sancho : 
" but 1 bring other things of greater moment and consequence." 
— " I am very glad of that," answered the wife. " Pray show me 
these things of greater moment and consequence, my friend ; 
for I would fain see them, to rejoice this heart of mine, which 
has been so sad and discontented all the long time of your 
absence." — " You shall see them at home, wife," said Sancho, 
" and be satisfied at present ; for if it please heaven, that we 
make another sally in quest of adventures, you will soon see me 
an earl or governor of an island, and not an ordinary one 
neither, but one of the best that is to be had." — " Grant heaven 
it may be so, husband," said the wife, " for we have need of it. 
But pray tell me what you mean by islands ; for I do not under- 
stand you ? " — " Honey is not for the mouth of an ass," answered 
Sancho ; " in good time you shall see, wife, yea, and admire to 
hear yourself styled ladyship by all your vassals." — " What do 
you mean, Sancho, by ladyship, islands, and vassals ? " answered 
Teresa Panza. " Be not in so much haste, Teresa, to know ail 
this," said Sancho ; " let it suffice that I tell you the truth, and 
you sew up your mouth. But for the present know, that there 
is nothing in the world so pleasant to an honest man, as to be 
squire to a knight-errant, and seeker of adventures. It is true, 
indeed, most of them are not so much to a man's mind as he 
could wish. This I know by experience ; for I have sometimes 
come off tossed in a blanket, and sometimes well cudgelled. 



132 THE STORY OF DON QUIXOTE. 

Yet for all that, it is a fine thing to be in expectation of acci- 
dents, traversing mountains, searching woods, marching over 
rocks, visiting castles, lodging in inns, all at discretion, and 
never a farthing to pay." 

All this discourse passed between Sancho Panza and his wife 
Teresa Panza, while the housekeeper and the niece received 
Don Quixote, and having pulled off his clothes, laid him in his 
old bed. He looked at them with eyes askance, not knowing 
perfectly where he was. The priest charged the niece to take 
great care, make much of her uncle, and to keep a watchful eye 
over him, lest he should once more give them the slip ; telling 
her what difficulty they had to get him home to his house. 
Here the two women exclaimed afresh, and renewed their exe- 
crations against all books of chivalry, begging of Heaven to 
confound to the centre of the abyss the authors of so many lies 
and absurdities. Lastly, they remained full of trouble and fear, 
lest they should lose their uncle and master, as soon as ever he 
found himself a little better. 




CHAPTER X. 

Sets out a second time, with his squire — Sanchds discourse with 
his wife Teresa Panza. 

HE priest and the barber were almost a whole month 
without seeing their friend, lest they should bring 
back to his mind the remembrance of things past. 
Yet they did not therefore forbear visiting his niece 
and his housekeeper, charging them to take care and make 
much of him, and to give him comforting things to eat. They 
said they did so, and would continue so to do ; for they per- 
ceived that their master was ever and anon discovering signs of 
being in his right mind ; whereat the priest and the barber 
were greatly pleased, as thinking they had hit upon the right 
course in bringing him home enchanted upon the ox-waggon. 
The two resolved therefore to visit him, and make trial of his 
amendment ; agreeing between them not to touch upon the 
subject of knight-errantry, lest they should endanger the ripping 
up of a sore that was yet so tender. 

So they made the knight a visit, and found him sitting on his 
bed, clad in a waistcoat of green baise, with a red Toledo bonnet 
on his head, and so lean and shrivelled, that he seemed as if he 
was reduced to a mere mummy. They were received by him 
with great kindness ; and when they inquired after his health, 
he gave them an account both of it, and of himself, with much 
judgment and in well-chosen words. Then they fell to talking 
on general subjects, and still the knight expressed himself with 
perfect reasonableness, until the danger to which all Christen- 
dom was exposed by the inroads of the Turks was spoken of. 



134 THE STORY OF DON QUIXOTE 

Then alas, Don Quixote's old madness blazed out ; he could 
only see one remedy for the evil, and that was for the King of 
Spain to summon to his aid all the knights-errant who were wan- 
dering about his dominions — it being, as he assured his friends, 
no new thing that one such knight should defeat an army of two 
hundred thousand men, as though they had only one neck, or 
were made of sugar-paste. He wound up, by exclaiming vehe- 
mently, "A knight-errant will I live ! and a knight-errant will I 
die ! let the Turk come down or up when he pleases." 

This outburst was not very encouraging ; but whilst they 
were yet chatting, Don Quixote's housekeeper and his niece 
were suddenly heard bawling so loudly in the courtyard, that 
they all ran to see what was amiss. The two women were, in 
truth, holding the door against Sancho Panza, who was strug- 
gling to get in, to see his master. " What would this burley 
fellow have in this house ?" said they, " Get you to your own, 
brother ; for it is you, and no other, by whom our master is 
seduced, and led astray, and carried rambling up and down the 
highways." To which Sancho replied, " Mistress Housekeeper, 
it is I that am seduced and led astray, and carried rambling up 
and down the highways, and not your master. It was he who 
led me this dance, and you deceive yourselves half in half. He 
inveigled me from home with fair speeches, promising me an 
island, which I still hope for." — " May the islands choke thee, 
Sancho ! " answered the niece ; " and, pray, what are islands ? 
are they anything eatable, glutton, cormorant, as thou art ?" — 
" They are not to be eaten," replied Sancho, " but governed, 
and better governments than any four cities, or four justiceships 
at court." — " For all that," said the housekeeper, "you come not 
in here, sack of mischiefs, and bundle of rogueries ! Get you 
home, and govern there ; go, plough and cart, and cease pre- 
tending to islands or highlands." But here Don Quixote called 
him to him, ordering the women to hold their tongues, and let 
him in. Sancho entered, and the priest and the barber took 
their leave of Don Quixote, of whose cure they now despaired ; 
the priest saying to the barber, " You will see, neighbour, when 
we least think of it, our gentleman take the other flight." — " I 



AND HIS SQUIRE SANCHO PANZA. 135 

make no doubt of that," answered the barber ; " yet, I do not 
admire so much the madness of the knight as the simplicity 
of the squire." 

In the meanwhile, Don Quixote had shut himself up in his 
chamber with Sancho only, and said to him, " I am very sorry, 
Sancho, you should say, and stand in it, that it was I who drew 
you out of your cottage, when you know that I myself stayed 
not in my own house. We set out together ; we went on to- 
gether ; and together we performed our travels. We both ran 
the same fortune and the same chance. If you were once 
tossed in a blanket, I have been thrashed an hundred times ; 
and herein only have I had the advantage of you." — " And 
reason good," answered Sancho ; "for, as your worship holds, 
misfortunes belong more properly to knights-errant themselves, 
than to their squires." — "You are mistaken, Sancho," said Don 
Quixote ; " for according to the saying, Quando caput dolet, 
&c." — " I understand no other language than my own," replied 
Sancho. " I mean," said Don Quixote, " that when the head 
aches, all the members ache also ; and therefore I, being your 
master and lord, am your head, and you are a part of me, as be- 
ing my servant. And for this reason the ill that does, or shall 
affect me, must affect you also ; and so on the contrary." — 
" Indeed," said Sancho, " it should be so ; but when I, as a 
limb, was tossed in the blanket, my head stood on t' other side 
of the pales, beholding me frisking in the air, without feeling 
any pain at all ; and since the members are bound to grieve at 
the ills of the head, that also, in requital, ought to do the like 
for them." — " Would you insinuate now, Sancho," replied Don 
Quixote, " that I was not grieved when I saw you tossed ? If 
that be your meaning, say no more, nor so much as think it ; 
for I felt more pain then in my mind, than you did in your 
body. But no more of this at present. In the meantime, tell 
me, friend Sancho, what do folks say of me about this town ? 
what opinion has the common people of me ? what think the 
gentlemen, and what the cavaliers ? what is said of my prowess, 
what of my exploits, and what of my courtesy? What dis- 
course is there of the design I have engaged in, to revive and 



136 THE STORY OF DON QUIXOTE 

restore to the world the long-forgotten order of chivalry ? In 
short, Sancho, I would have you tell me whatever you have 
heard concerning these matters. And this you must do, with- 
out adding to the good, or taking from the bad, one tittle ; for 
it is the part of faithful vassals to tell their lords the truth in 
its native simplicity." — " That I will, with all my heart, sir," 
answered Sancho, " on condition that your worship shall not 
be angry at what I say." — " I will in no wise be angry," 
replied Don Quixote ; " you may speak freely, Sancho." 

" First and foremost then," said Sancho, " the common people 
take your worship for a downright madman, and me for no less 
a fool. The gentlemen say, that not containing yourself within 
the bounds of gentility, you have taken upon you the style of 
Don, and invaded the dignity of knighthood, with" no more than 
a paltry vineyard, and a couple of acres of land, with a tatter 
behind, and another before. The cavaliers say, they would not 
have the gentlemen set themselves in opposition to them, espe- 
cially those gentlemen esquires who clout their shoes, and take 
up the fallen stitches of their black stockings with green silk." — 
" That," said Don Quixote, " is no reflection upon me ; for I 
always go well-clad, and my clothes never patched ; a little torn 
they may be, but more so through the fretting of my armour, 
than by length of time." — " As to what concerns your valour, 
courtesy, achievements, and your undertaking," said Sancho, 
" there are very different opinions. Some say, mad but humour- 
ous ; others, valiant but unfortunate ; others, courteous but 
impertinent ; and thus they run divisions upon us, till they 
leave neither your worship nor me a whole bone in our skins." 
— "Take notice, Sancho," said Don Quixote, "that wherever 
virtue is found in any eminent degree, it is sure to be per- 
secuted." 

At this moment Sampson Carasco, an acquaintance of Don 
Quixote's, came in to see his friend. Sampson was a bachelor 
of arts of the famous University of Salamanca, and also a 
broad-faced, pleasant, waggish fellow, who had a mind to amuse 
himself with our knight's vagaries. So, when Don Quixote told 
him he meant to set out on a fresh adventure in three or four 



AND HIS SQUIRE SANCHO PANZA. 137 

days, and asked where he had best begin, the bachelor advised 
him to go directly to the city of Saragosa, where was to be held 
a most solemn tournament in honour of the festival of Saint 
George, in which he might acquire renown above all the Arra- 
gonian knights in the world. He commended his resolution as 
most honourable and most valorous, and gave him a hint to 
be more wary in encountering dangers, because his life was not 
his own, but theirs, who stood in need of his aid and succour in 
their distresses. " This is what I renounce, Signor Sampson," 
said Sancho, " for my master makes no more of attacking an 
hundred armed men, then a greedy boy would do half a dozen 
melons. Body of the world ! Signor Bachelor, yes, there must 
be a time to attack and a time to retreat ; and it must not be 
always, San Jago, and charge, Spain.* And further, I have 
heard say (and, if I remember right, from my master himself), 
that the mean of true valour lies between the extremes of 
cowardice and rashness. Now, if this be so, I would not have 
him run away when there is no need of it, nor would I have him 
fall on when the too great superiority requires quite another 
thing ; but above all things, I would let my master know that, 
if he will take me with him, it must be upon condition that he 
shall battle it all himself, and that I will not be obliged to do any 
other thing but to look after his clothes and his diet, to which 
purposes I will fetch and carry like any spaniel ; but to imagine 
that I will lay hand to my sword, though it be against rascally 
woodcutters with hooks and hatchets, is to be very much mis- 
taken. I, Signor Sampson, do not set up for the fame of being 
valiant, but for that of being the best and most faithful squire 
that ever served a knight-errant ; and if my lord Don Quixote, 
in consideration of my many and good services, has a mind to 
bestow on me some one island of the many his worship says he 
shall light upon, I shall be much beholden to him for the 
favour ; and though he should not give me one, born I am, and 
we must not rely upon one another, but upon Providence ; and 
perhaps the bread I shall eat without the government may go 
down more savourily than that I should eat with it; and how 

* The old Spanish war-cry. 



138 THE STORY OF DON QUIXOTE 

do I know but the evil one, in one of these governments, may 
provide me some stumbling-block, that I may fall, and dash out 
my grinders ? Sancho I was born, and Sancho I intend to die. 
Yet, for all that, if, fairly and squarely, without much solicitude 
or much danger, Heaven should chance to throw an island, or 
some such thing, in my way, I am not such a fool neither as to 
refuse it ; for it is a saying, When they give you a heifer, make 
haste with the rope, and when good fortune comes, be sure take 
her in." 

" Brother Sancho," said Carrasco, " you have spoken like any 
professor ; nevertheless, trust in Providence, and Signor Don 
Quixote, that he will give you, not only an island, but even a 
kingdom." — " One is as likely as the other," answered Sancho ; 
" though I could tell Signor Carrasco, that my master will not 
throw the kingdom he gives me into a bag without a bottom ; 
for I have felt my own pulse, and find myself in health enough 
to rule kingdoms and govern islands, and so much I have signi- 
fied before now to my lord." — " Look you, Sancho," said Samp- 
son, "honours change manners; and it may come to pass, 
when you are a governor, that you may not know your own 
father." — " That," answered Sancho, " may be the case with 
your mean trash, but not with those whose souls, like mine, 
come of a good stock. No, I am not likely to be ungrateful to 
anybody." 

Sancho came home so gay and so merry, that his wife per- 
ceived his joy a bow-shot off, insomuch that she could not but 
ask him, " What is the matter, friend Sancho, you are so merry ? " 
To which he answered, " Dear wife, if it were God's will, I 
should be very glad not to be so well pleased as I appear to be." — 
" Husband," replied she, " I understand you not, and know not 
what you mean by saying, you should be glad, if it were God's 
will you were not so much pleased ; now, silly as I am, I cannot 
guess how one can take pleasure in not being pleased." — u Look 
you, Teresa," answered Sancho, " I am thus merry, because I 
am resolved to return to the service of my master Don Quixote, 
who is determined to make a third sally in quest of adventures ; 
and I am to accompany him, for so my necessity will have it. 



AND HIS SQUIRE SANCHO PANZA. 1 39 

Besides, I am pleased with the hopes of finding the other hun- 
dred crowns, like those we have spent ; though it grieves me, 
that I must part from you and my children ; and if God would 
be pleased to give me bread, dry-shod and at home, without 
dragging me over rough and smooth, and through thick and 
thin (which He might, by only willing it so), it is plain, my joy 
would be more firm and solid, since it is now mingled with 
sorrow for leaving you ; so that I said right, when I said I 
should be glad, if it were God's will I were not so well pleased." 
— " Look you, Sancho," replied Teresa, " ever since you have 
been a member of a knight-errant, you talk in such a round- 
about manner, that there is nobody understands you." — " It is 
enough that God understands me, wife," answered Sancho ; 
" for He is the understander of all things ; and so much for 
that. And do you hear, sister, it is convenient you should take 
more than ordinary care of Dapple these three days, that he 
may be in a condition to bear arms ; double his allowance, and 
get the pack-saddle in order, and the rest of his tackling ; for 
we are not going to a wedding, but to roam abou. the world, 
and to have now and then a bout at ' give and take ' with giants, 
fierce dragons, and goblins, and to hear hissings, roarings, 
bellowings, and bleatings : all which would be but flowers of 
lavender, if we had not to do with carriers and enchanted 
Moors." — " I believe indeed, husband," replied Teresa, " that 
your squires-errant do not eat their bread for nothing." — " I tell 
you, wife," answered Sancho, " that, did I not expect ere long to 
see myself a governor of an island, I should drop down dead 
upon the spot."—" Not so, my dear husband," said Teresa. 
" Let the hen live, though it be with the pip. Live you, and 
plague take all the governments in the world. Without a 
government came you into the world ; without a government 
have you lived hitherto ; and without a government will you 
go, or be carried to your grave, whenever your time comes. 
How many folks are there in the world that have not a govern- 
ment ; and yet they live for all that ? The best sauce in 
the world is hunger, and, as that is never wanting to the poor, 
they always eat with a relish. But if, perchance, Sancho, you 



140 THE STORY OF. DON QUIXOTE 

should get a government, do not forget me and your children. 
Consider, that little Sancho is just fifteen years old, and it is fit 
he should go to school, if so be his uncle, the abbot, means to 
bring him up to the church. Consider, also, that Mary Sancha, 
your daughter, will not break her heart if we marry her ; for I 
am mistaken if she has not as much mind to a husband as you 
have to a government." 

"In good faith," answered Sancho, " if I get anything like a 
government, dear wife, I will match Mary Sancha so highly, 
that there will be no coming near her without calling her Your 
Ladyship." — " Not so, Sancho," answered Teresa ; " the best 
way is to marry her to her equal : for if, instead of pattens, you 
put her on clogs, and, instead of her russet petticoat of fourteen- 
penny stuff, you give her a farthingale and petticoats of silk, 
and, instead of plain Molly and You, she be called My Lady 
Such-a-one, and Your Ladyship, the girl will not know where 
she is, and will fall into a thousand mistakes at every step, 
discovering the coarse thread of her home-spun country-stuff." — 
" Peace, fool," said Sancho ; " for all the business is to practise 
two or three years, and after that the ladyship and the gravity 
will sit upon her, as if they were made for her ; and, if not, what 
matters it ? Let her be a lady, come what will of it." — " Measure 
yourself by your condition, Sancho," answered Theresa ; " seek 
not to raise yourself higher. It would be a pretty business truly 
to marry our Mary to some great count or knight, who, when 
the fancy takes him, would look upon her as some strange 
thing, and be calling her country- wench, clod-breaker's brat, 
and I know not what ; not while I live, husband ; I have not 
brought up my child to be so used. Do you provide money, 
Sancho, and leave the matching of her to my care ; and do not 
you pretend to be marrying her now at your courts and great 
palaces, where they will neither understand her, nor she under- 
stand herself." — " Hark you, beast, and wife for a blunderbuss," 
replied Sancho, " why would you now, without rhyme or reason, 
hinder me from marrying my daughter with one whose grand- 
children may be styled Your Lordships ? Look you, Teresa, I 
have always heard my betters say/ 'He that will not when he 



AND HIS SQUIRE SANCHO PANZA. 141 

may, when he will he shall have nay ; j and it would be very 
wrong, now that Fortune is knocking at our door, to shut it 
against her. Do you not think, stupid ! " continued Sancho, 
11 that it would be well for me to be really possessed of some 
government, that may lift us out of the dirt, and enable me to 
match Mary Sancha to whom I please ? You will then see how 
people will call you Donna Teresa Panza ; and you will sit in the 
church with velvet cushions, carpets, and tapestries, in spite of 
the best gentlewoman of the parish. No ! no ! continue as you 
are, and be always the same thing, without being increased or 
diminished, like a figure in the hangings. Let us have no more 
of this, pray ; for little Sancha shall be a countess, in spite of 
your teeth." — " For all that, husband," answered Teresa, " I am 
afraid this countess-ship will be my daughter's undoing. But, 
what you please ; make her a duchess or a princess ; but I can 
tell you, it shall never be with my good-will or consent. Teresa 
my parents named me at the font, a plain, simple name, without 
the additions, laces, or garnitures of Dons or Donnas. My 
father's name was Cascajo ; and I, by being your wife, am called 
Teresa Panza, though indeed, by good right, I should be called 
Teresa Cascajo. I am contented with this name, without the 
additional weight of Donna, to make it so heavy that I shall 
not be able to carry it ; and I would not have people, when they 
see me decked out like any little countess or governess, im- 
mediately say, Look how stately Madam Hog-feeder moves ! 
Yesterday she toiled at her distaff from morning to night, and 
went to church with the tail of her petticoat over her head, 
instead of a veil ; and to-day, forsooth, she goes with her 
farthingale, her embroideries, and with an air, as if we did not 
know her. Heaven keep me in my seven, or my five senses, or 
as many as I have ; for I do not intend to expose myself after 
this manner. Go you to your governing and islanding, and 
puff yourself up as you please ; as for my girl and me, we will 
neither of us stir a step from our own town. Go you with your 
Don Quixote ; and truly I cannot imagine who made him a 
Don, a title which neither his father nor his grandfather ever 
had." — "Heaven bless thee, woman !" rejoined Sancho, "what 



142 THE STORY OF DON QUIXOTE 

a parcel of things have you been stringing one upon another, 
without either head or tail ! What has Cascajo, or the em- 
broideries either, to do with what I am saying ? Hark you, 
had I told you, that our daughter was to throw herself head- 
long from some high tower, or go strolling about the world, as 
did the Infanta Donna Urraca, you would be in the right not 
to come into my opinion ; but if, in two turns of a hand, and 
less than one twinkling of an eye, I can equip her with a Don 
and Your Ladyship, and raise you from the straw to sit under a 
canopy of state, and upon a sofa with more velvet cushions 
than all the blacks of Morocco had Moors in their lineage, why 
will you not consent, and desire what I do ?" — " I do not under- 
stand you, husband," replied Teresa. " Do what you think fit, 
and break not my brains any more with your speeches and flou- 
rishes. And if you are revolved to do as you say " — " Re- 
solved, you should say, wife," said Sancho, " and not revolved." 
— " Set not yourself to dispute with me," answered Teresa : " I 
speak as it pleases Heaven, and meddle not with what does not 
concern me. I say, if you hold still in the same mind of being 
a governor, take your son Sancho with you, and henceforward 
train him up to your art of government ; for it is fitting the sons 
should inherit and learn their father's calling." — " When I have 
a government," said Sancho, * I will send for him by the post, 
and will send you money, which I shall not want ; fo^there are/ 
always people enough to lend governors money, when they have 
it notjjbut then be sure to clothe the boy so that he may look, 
not like what he is, but what he is to be." — " Send you money," 
said Teresa, " and I will equip him as fine as a lord." — " We 
are agreed then," said Sancho, " that our daughter is to be a 
countess?" — "The day that I see her a countess," answered 
Teresa, " I shall reckon I am laying her in her grave ; but I say 
again, you may do as you please ;Qfor we women are born to 
bear the clog of obedience to our husbands, be they never such 
blockheads ; '^Jand then she began to weep as bitterly as if she 
already saw little Sancho dead and buried. Sancho comforted 
her, and promised, that though he must make her a countess, 
he would see and put it off as long as possibly he could. Thus 



AND HIS SQUIRE SANCHO PANZA. 143 

ended their dialogue, and Sancho went back to visit Don 
Quixote, and put things' in order for their departure. 

While Sancho Panza and his wife were holding the foregoing 
dialogue, Don Quixote's niece and housekeeper were not idle ; 
who, guessing by a thousand signs that their uncle and master 
would break loose the third time, and return to the exercise of 
his (for them) unlucky knight-errantry, endeavoured by all pos- 
sible means to divert him from so foolish a design ; but it was 
all preaching in the desert, and hammering on old iron. How- 
ever, among many other various reasonings which passed be- 
tween them, the housekeeper said to him, " Sir, if your worship 
will not tarry quietly at home, and leave this rambling over 
hills and dales, like a disturbed ghost, in quest of those same 
adventures, which I call misadventures, I am resolved to com- 
plain aloud to the king, to put a stop to it." To which Don 
Quixote replied, " Mistress Housekeeper, what answer His 
Majesty will return to your complaints, I know not ; and care 
as little." To which the housekeeper replied, " Pray, sir, are 
there not knights in His Majesty's court ? " — " Yes," answered 
Don Quixote, " there are many." — " Would it not then be 
better," replied she, " that your worship should be one of them, 
and quietly serve your king and lord at court ? " — " Look you, 
friend," answered Don Quixote, " all knights cannot be cour- 
tiers, neither can, nor ought, ail courtiers to be knights-errant. 
There must be of all sorts in the world ; and though we are all 
knights, there is a great deal of difference between us. Your 
true knight- errant, though he should espy ten giants, whose 
heads not only touch, but overtop the clouds, and though each 
of them stalk on two prodigious towers instead of legs, and has 
arms like the main-masts of huge and mighty ships of war, and 
each eye like a great mill-wheel, and more fiery than the furnace 
of a glass-house, yet he must in nowise be affrighted, but on 
the contrary, with a courteous air, and an undaunted heart, en- 
counter, assail, and if possible overcome and rout them in an 
instant of time, though they should come armed with the shell 
of a certain fish, which, they say, is harder than adamant, and 
though, instead of swords, they should bring sabres of Damas- 



144 THE STORY OF DON QUIXOTE 

cus steel, or iron maces pointed also with steel, as I have seen 
more than once or twice." 

"Ah! dear uncle," said then the niece, "be assured that, 
what you tell us of knights-errant is all inventions and lies, 
and if their histories must not be burnt, at least they deserve 
to wear each some badge, whereby they may be known to be 
infamous, and destructive of good manners." — " By San J ago," 
said Don Quixote, "were you not my own sister's daughter, I 
would make such an example of you, for the blasphemy you 
have uttered, that the whole world should ring of it. How ! is 
it possible, that a young baggage, who scarcely knows how to 
manage a dozen of bobbins, should presume to put in her oar, 
and censure the histories of knights-errant ? What would Sir 
Amadis have said, should he have heard of such a thing ? But 
now I think of it, I am sure he would have forgiven you ; for 
he was the most humble and most courteous knight of his time." 
— " Ah ! well," said the niece ; " my uncle — he knows every- 
thing ; nothing comes amiss to him. I will lay a wager that, 
if he had a mind to turn mason, he would build a house with 
as much ease as a bird-cage." — " I assure you, niece," answered 
Don Quixote, " that if these knightly thoughts did not employ 
all my senses, there is nothing I could not do, nor any curious 
art but what I could turn my hand to, especially bird-cages and 
toothpicks." 

By this time there was knocking at the door ; and upon 
asking, " Who is there?" Sancho Panza answered, "It is I." 
The housekeeper no sooner knew his voice, but she ran to 
hide herself, so much she abhorred the sight of him. The niece 
let him in ; his master Don Quixote went out and received him 
with open arms ; and they two being locked up together in the 
knight's chamber, held another dialogue, not a jot inferior to 
the former. 

The housekeeper no sooner saw that Sancho and her master 
had locked themselves up together, but she presently began to 
suspect the drift of their conference ; and, imagining that it 
would end in a resolution for a third sally, she took her veil, and 
full of anxiety, went in quest of the bachelor Sampson Carrasco, 



AND HIS SQUIRE SANCHO PANZA. I45 

thinking that, as he was a well-spoken person, and a new ac- 
quaintance of her master's, he might be able to dissuade him 
from so extravagant a purpose. She found him walking to and 
fro in the courtyard of his house ; and, as soon as she espied 
him, she fell down at his feet in violent disorder and a cold 
sweat. When Carrasco beheld her with signs of so much 
sorrow and heart-beating, he said, " What is the matter, Mistress 
Housekeeper ? what has befallen you, that you look as if your 
heart was at your mouth?" — "Nothing at all, dear Master 
Sampson," said she, " only that my master is most certainly 
breaking forth." — "How breaking forth, madam?" demanded 
Sampson ; " has he broken a hole in any part of his body ? " — 
" No," answered she ; " he is only breaking forth at the door of 
his own madness : I mean, Signor Bachelor, that he has a mind 
to sally out again (and this will be his third time), to ramble 
about the world in quest of what he calls adventures, though, 
for my part, I cannot tell why he calls them so. The first time, 
he was brought home to us athwart an ass and mashed to a 
mummy. The second time, he came home in an ox-waggon, 
locked up in a cage, in which he persuaded himself he was 
enchanted ; and the poor soul was so changed, that his own 
mother would not have known him ; feeble, wan, his eyes sunk 
to the inmost lodgings of his brain ; insomuch that I spent above 
six hundred eggs in getting him a little up again, as Heaven 
is my witness, and my hens that will not let me lie." — " I can 
easily believe that," answered the bachelor ; "they are so good, 
so plump, and so well nurtured. But is there nothing more ? " — 
" No, sir," answered she. " Then go home," said he ; " I will be 
with you instantly, and you shall see wonders." With that 
away went the housekeeper, and the bachelor immediately went 
to find the priest, and consult with him about what we shall 
hear of in due time. 

While Don Quixote and Sancho continued locked up together, 
there passed some discourse between them. Said Sancho to his 
master, " Sir, I have now reluced my wife to consent to let me 
go with your worship wherever you please to carry me." — " Re- 
duced, you should say, Sancho," said Don Quixote, " and not 



146 THE STORY OF DON QUIXOTE 

reluced." — "Once or twice already," answered Sancho, "if I 
remember right, I have besought your worship not to mend my 
words if you understand my meaning ; and when you do not, 
say, Sancho, or Beast, I understand you not ; and if I do not ex- 
plain myself, then you may correct me, for I am so focible " 

" I do not understand you, Sancho," said Don Quixote, " for I 
know not the meaning of focible." — " So focible," answered 
Sancho, " means, I am so much so." — " I understand less now," 
replied Don Quixote. " Why, if you do not understand me," 
answered Sancho, " I know not how to express it ; I know no 
more."—" Oh ! now I have it," answered Don Quixote ; " you 
mean you are so docile, so pliant, and so tractable, that you 
will readily comprehend whatever I shall say to you, and will 
learn whatever I shall teach you." — " I will lay a wager," said 
Sancho, " you took me from the beginning, and understood me 
perfectly ; only you had a mind to put me out, to hear me make 
two hundred blunders more." — " That may be," replied Don 
Quixote ; " but, in short, what says Teresa ? " — " Teresa," said 
Sancho, " says, that fast bind fast find, and that we must have 
less talking, and more doing ; for he who shuffles is not he who 
cuts, and lone performance is worth two promises.) The case is 
that, as your worship very well knows, we are all mortal, here 
to-day and gone to-morrow ; that the lamb goes to the spit as 
soon as the sheep ; for Death is deaf, and when he knocks at 
life's door, is always in haste, and nothing can stay him." — "All 
this is true," said Don Quixote ; " but I do not perceive what 
you would be at." — "What I would be at," said Sancho, "is, 
that your worship would be pleased to appoint me a certain 
salary, at so much per month, for the time I shall serve you, 
and that the said salary be paid me out of your estate ; for I 
have no mind to stand to the courtesy of recompenses, which 
come late, or lame, or never. In short, I would know what I . 
am to get, be it little or much ; for the hen sits if it be but upon 
one egg, and many littles make a mickle, and while one is 
getting something, one is losing nothing. In good truth, should 
it fall out that your worship should give me that same island 
you have promised me, I am not so ungrateful, nor am I for 



AND HIS SQUIRE SANCHO PANZA. I47 

making so hard a bargain, as not to consent that the amount of 
the rent of such island be appraised, and my salary be deducted, 
cantity for cantity." — " Is not quantity as good as cantity, friend 
Sancho?" answered Don Quixote. "I understand you," said 
Sancho ; " I will lay a wager I should have said quantity and 
not cantity ; but that signifies nothing, since your worship 
knew my meaning." — " Yes, and so perfectly too," returned Don 
Quixote, " that I see to the very bottom of your thoughts, and 
the mark you drive at with the innumerable arrows of your 
proverbs. Look you, Sancho, I could easily appoint you wages, 
had I ever met with any precedent, among the histories of 
knights-errant, to discover or show me the least glimmering of 
what they used to get monthly or yearly. I have read all or 
most of those histories, and do not remember ever to have read 
that any knight-errant allowed his squire set wages. I only 
know, that they all served upon courtesy, and that, when they 
least thought of it, if their masters had good luck, they were 
rewarded with an island, or something equivalent, or, at least, 
remained with a title and dignity. If, Sancho, upon the strength 
of these expectations, you are willing to return to my service, do 
so ; but to think that I will force the ancient usage of knight- 
errantry off its hinges, is a very great mistake. And therefore, 
Sancho, go home and tell your wife my intention, and if she is 
willing, and you have a mind to stay with me upon courtesy, 
well and good ; if not, we are as we were : for if the dove-house 
wants not bait, it will never want pigeons ; and take notice, son, 
that a good reversion is better than a bad possession, and a good 
demand than bad pay. I talk thus, Sancho, to let you see that 
I can let fly a volley of proverbs as well as you. To be short 
with you, if you are not disposed to go along with me upon 
courtesy, and run the same fortune with me, go about your 
business; for I can never want squire, who will be more 
obedient, more diligent, and neither so selfish nor so talkative, 
as you are." 

When Sancho heard his master's fixed resolution, the sky 
clouded over with him, and the wings of his heart downright 
flagged ; for till now he verily believed his master would not 



148 THE STORY OF DON QUIXOTE 

go without him for the world's worth. While he stood thus 
thoughtful and in suspense, came in Sampson Carrasco, with 
the niece, and housekeeper, who had a mind to hear what 
arguments he made use of to dissuade their master and uncle 
from going again in quest of adventures. Sampson, who was a 
notable wag, drew near, and embracing Don Quixote, as he did 
the time before, exalted his voice and said, " O flower of knight- 
errantry ! O resplendent light of arms ! O mirror and honour 
of the Spanish nation ! may the person, or persons, who shall 
obstruct or disappoint your third sally, never accomplish what 
they so ardently wish ! Go on, dear signor Don Quixote, 
beautiful and brave ; and let your worship and grandeur lose 
no time, but set forward rather to-day than to-morrow ; and, if 
anything be wanting towards putting your design in execution, 
here am I, ready to supply it with my life and fortune ; and if 
your magnificence stands in need of a squire, I shall think it a 
singular piece of good fortune to serve you as such." 

Don Quixote thereupon, turning to Sancho, said, (t Did I not 
tell you, Sancho, that I should have squires enough, and to spare ? 
But let our new Sampson abide in his country, for I will make 
shift with any squire whatever, since Sancho deigns not to go 
along with me." — " I do deign," said Sancho, melted into tender- 
ness, and his eyes overflowing with tears ; and proceeded, " It 
shall never be said of me, dear master, the bread is eaten, and 
the company broke up. I am not come of an ungrateful stock ; 
since all the world knows, especially our village, who the Panzas 
were, from whom I am descended : besides, I know, and am 
well assured, by many good works, and more good words, of the 
desire your worship has to do me a kindness ; and if I have 
taken upon me so much more than I ought by intermeddling 
in the article of wages, it was out of complaisance to my wife, 
who, when once she takes in hand to persuade a thing, no mallei- 
drives and forces the hoops of a tub, as she does to make one 
do what she has a mind to. But, in short, a man must be a 
man, and a woman a woman ; and since I am a man everywhere 
else (I cannot deny that), I will also be one in my own house ; 
and I again offer myself to serve your worship faithfully and 



AND HIS SQUIRE SANCHO PANZA. 149 

loyally, as well and better than all the squires that ever served 
knight-errant, in past or present times." 

The bachelor stood in admiration to hear Sancho Panza's 
manner of talking ; and said to himself, that two such fools as 
master and man were never seen before in the world. In fine, 
Don Quixote and Sancho being perfectly reconciled, embraced 
each other, and it was decreed their departure should be within 
three days, in which time they might have leisure to provide 
what was necessary for the expedition, especially a complete 
helmet, which Don Quixote said he must by all means carry 
with him. Sampson offered him one belonging to a friend of 
his, who, he was sure, would not deny it him, though, to say the 
truth, the brightness of the steel was not a little obscured by 
tarnish and rust. The curses which the housekeeper and niece 
heaped upon the bachelor, were not to be numbered : they tore 
their hair, and scratched their faces, and, like the funeral 
mourners formerly in fashion, lamented the approaching depar- 
ture, as if it were the death of their master. The design Samp- 
son had in persuading him to sally forth again will be seen here- 
after ; it was by the advice of the priest and the barber, with 
whom he had plotted beforehand. 

In those three days, Don Quixote and Sancho furnished them- 
selves with what they thought convenient ; and Sancho having 
appeased his wife, and Don Quixote his niece and housekeeper, 
in the dusk of the evening, unobserved by anybody, they took 
the road to Toboso ; Don Quixote upon his good Rozinante, 
and Sancho upon his old Dapple, his wallets stored with pro- 
visions, and his purse with money, which Don Quixote had 
given him against whatever might happen. 

As they paced along, Don Quixote said to his squire, " Friend 
Sancho, the night is coming on apace, and with too much dark- 
ness for us to reach Toboso by daylight, whither I am resolved 
to go, before I undertake any other adventure, There will I re- 
ceive the blessing, and the good leave of the peerless Dulcinea, 
with which leave I am well assured of finishing and giving a 
happy conclusion to every perilous adventure." — " I believe it," 
answered Sancho ; " but I am of opinion, it will be difficult for 



I50 THE STORY OF DON QUIXOTE 

your worship to come to the speech of her, or be alone with her, 
at least in any place where you may receive her benediction, 
unless she tosses it over the pales of the yard ; from whence I 
saw her the time before, when I carried her the letter." — " Pales 
did you fancy them to be, Sancho," said Don Quixote, " over 
which you saw that paragon of gentility and beauty? Impos- 
sible ! you must mean galleries, arcades, or cloisters of some 
rich and royal palace." — " All that may be," answered Sancho ; 
" but to me they seemed pales, or I have a very shallow memory." 
— " However let us go thither, Sancho," replied Don Quixote ; 
" for so I do but see her, be it through pales, through windows, 
through crannies, or through the rails of a garden, this I shall 
gain by it, that, how small soever a ray of the sun of her beauty 
reaches my eyes, it will so enlighten my understanding, and 
fortify my heart, that I shall remain without a rival either in 
wisdom or valour." — " In truth, sir," answered Sancho, "when I 
saw this sun of the Lady Dulcinea del Toboso,. it was not so 
bright as to send forth any rays : and the reason must be, that, 
as her ladyship was winnowing that wheat I told you of, the great 
quantity of dust that flew out of it, overcast her face like a cloud, 
and obscured it." — "What! Sancho," said Don Quixote, "do 
you persist in saying and believing, that my Lady Dulcinea was 
winnowing wheat ; a business and employment quite foreign to 
persons of distinction, who are designed and reserved for other 
exercises and amusements, which distinguish their high quality 
a bow-shot off? You forget, Sancho, the poet's verses in which 
he describes the labours of those four nymphs, when they seated 
themselves in the green meadow, to work those rich stuffs, which 
were all embroidered with gold, silk, and pearls. And in this 
manner must my lady have been employed when you saw her ; 
but the envy some wicked enchanter bears me, changes and con- 
verts into different shapes everything that should give me plea- 
sure. Oh, envy ! thou root of infinite evils, and canker-worm of 
virtues ! All other vices, Sancho, carry somewhat of pleasure 
along with them ; but envy is attended with nothing but distaste, 
rancour, and rage." — " That is what I say too," replied Sancho. 
" Now, as I am an honest man, I never spoke ill of any enchanter, 



AND HIS SQUIRE SANCHO PANZA. 15 I 

nor have I wealth enough to be envied. It is true, indeed, I 
am said to be somewhat sly, and to have a little spice of the 
knave ; but the grand cloak of my simplicity, always natural and 
never artificial, hides and covers all. But let them say what 
they will ; naked was I born, and naked I am : I neither lose 
nor win ; and so care not a fig, let people say of me whatever 
they list." 

In these and the like discourses they passed that night and 
the following day, without any accident worth relating, whereat 
Don Quixote was not a little grieved. Next day they descried 
the great city of Toboso ; at sight, whereof, Don Quixote's 
spirits were much elevated, and Sancho's as much dejected, 
because he did not know Dulcinea's house, and had never 
seen her in his life, no more than his master had ; so that they 
were both equally in pain, the one to see her, the other for not 
having seen her ; and Sancho knew not what to do, when his 
master should send him to Toboso. In fine, Don Quixote 
resolved to enter the city about nightfall, and, till that hour 
came, they stayed among some oak-trees near the town, until, 
the time appointed being come, they went into the city ; where 
things befell them that were things indeed. 



CHAPTER XI. 

Don Quixote and Sancho arrive at Toboso — Sancho sent to the 
Lady Dulcinea — Dulcinea enchanted— Adventure with the 
strolling players. 

ALF the night, or thereabouts, was spent, when Don 
Quixote and Sancho, leaving the mountain, entered 




ujMpM Toboso. The town was all hushed in silence ; for 
its inhabitants were sound asleep, reposing, as the 
phrase is, with outstretched legs. The night was not quite a 
dark one ; though Sancho could have wished it were, that the 
obscurity thereof might cover or excuse his prevarication. 
Nothing was heard in all the place but the barking of dogs, 
stunning Don Quixote's ears, and disquieting Sancho's heart. 
Now and then an ass brayed, swine grunted, and cats mewed ; 
which different sounds were augmented by the silence of the 
night. All which the knight took for an ill omen ; nevertheless 
he said to Sancho, — " Sancho, son, lead on before to Dulcinea's 
palace ; for it may be we shall find her awake." — " To what 
palace, body of the sun ? " answered Sancho : " that I saw her 
highness in was but a very little house." — " She must have 
been retired at that time," replied Don Quixote, "to some 
small apartment of her castle, amusing herself with her dam- 
sels, as is usual with great ladies and princesses." — "Since 
your worship," said Sancho, " will needs have my Lady Dul- 
cinea's house to be a castle, is this an hour to find the gates 
open ? and is it fit we should stand thundering at the door, till 
they open and let us in, putting the whole house in an uproar ? 
Think you we are going to a public-house, like your topers, 
who knock, and call, and are let in at what hour they please, be 



THE STORY OF DON QUIXOTE. 153 

it never so late ? "— " First, to make one thing sure, let us find 
this castle," replied Don Quixote, " and then I will tell you 
what is fit to be done ; and look, Sancho, for either my eyes 
deceive me, or that great dark bulk we see yonder must be 
Dulcinea's palace."— " Then lead on yourself, sir," answered 
Sancho ; " perhaps it may be so ; though, if I were to see it 
with my eyes, and touch it with my hands, I will believe it just 
as much as I believe it is now day." 

Don Quixote led the way, and, having gone about two hun- 
dred paces, came up to the bulk which cast the dark shade ; 
and perceiving it was a large steeple, knew that the building 
was no palace, but the principal church of the place ; where- 
upon he said, " We are come to the church, Sancho." — " I find 
we are," answered Sancho ; " and pray goodness we be not 
come to our graves ; for it is no very good sign to be rambling 
about churchyards at such hours, and especially since I have 
already told your worship, if I remember right, that this same 
lady's house stands in an alley where there is no thoroughfare." — 
" A plague light on thee, thou blockhead ! " said Don Quixote ; 
"where have you found that castles and royal palaces are 
built in alleys without a thoroughfare ? " — " Sir," replied Sancho, 
" each country has its customs ; perhaps it is the fashion here 
in Toboso to build your palaces and great edifices in alleys ; 
and, therefore, I beseech your worship to let me look about 
among these lanes or alleys just before me ; and, it may be, 
in one nook or other I may pop upon this same palace, which 
I wish I may see devoured by dogs, for confounding and be- 
wildering us at this rate." — " Speak with respect, Sancho, of my 
lady's matters," said Don Quixote; "let us keep our holidays 
in peace, and not throw the rope after the bucket." — " I will 
curb myself," answered Sancho ; " but with what patience can 
I bear to think that your worship will needs have me know our 
mistress's house, and find it at midnight, having seen it but once, 
when you cannot find it yourself, though you must have seen it 
thousands of times ? "— " You will put me past all patience, 
Sancho," said Don Quixote; "come hither, heretic; have I 
not told you a thousand times, that I never saw the peerless 



154 THE STORY OF DON QUIXOTE 

Dulcinea in all the days of my life, nor ever stepped over the 
threshold of her palace, and that I am enamoured only by 
hearsay, and by the great fame of her wit and beauty ? " — " I 
hear it now," answered Sancho ; " and, I say, that since your 
worship has never seen her, no more have I." — "That cannot 
be," replied Don Quixote ; " for, at least, you told me sometime 
ago that you saw her winnowing wheat, when you brought me 
the answer to the letter I sent by you." — " Do not insist upon 
that, sir," answered Sancho ; " for, let me tell you, the sight 
of her, and the answer I brought, were both by hearsay too ; 
and I can no more tell who the Lady Dulcinea is, than I am 
able to box the moon." — " Sancho, Sancho," answered Don 
Quixote, "there is a time to jest, and a time when jests are 
unseasonable. What ! because I say that I never saw nor 
spoke to the mistress of my soul, must you therefore say so too, 
when you know the contrary so well ? " 

While they were thus discoursing, they perceived one passing 
by with a couple of mules, and by the noise a ploughshare 
made in dragging along the ground, they judged it must be 
some husbandman who was going to his work ; and so in 
truth it was. The ploughman came singing the ballad of the 
defeat of the French in Roncesvalles. Don Quixote hearing it, 
said, " Let me die, Sancho, if we shall have any good luck 
to-night. Do you not hear what this peasant is singing?" — 
" Yes, I do," answered Sancho ; " but what is the defeat at 
Roncesvalles to our purpose ? he might as well have sung the 
ballad of ' Merry may the maid be ; ' for it had been all one as 
to the good or ill success of our business." By this time the 
country fellow was come up to them, and Don Quixote said to 
him, " Good-morrow, honest friend ; can you inform me where- 
abouts stands the palace of the peerless Princess Donna 
Dulcinea del Toboso?" — "Sir," answered the young fellow, 
" I am a stranger, and have been but a few days in this town, 
where I serve a rich farmer in tilling his ground ; in yon house 
over the way live the parish-priest and the sexton of the place ; 
both, or either of them, can give your worship an account of 
this same lady princess, for they keep a register of all the 



AND HIS SQUIRE SANCHO PANZA. 1 55 

inhabitants of Toboso ; though I am of opinion no princess at 
all lives in this town, but several great ladies, that might every 
one be a princess in her own house." — " One of these, then," 
said Don Quixote, " must be she I am inquiring after." — " Not 
unlikely," answered the ploughman ; and pricking on his mules, 
he stayed for no more questions. 

Sancho, seeing his master in suspense, and sufficiently dis- 
satisfied, said to him, " Sir, the day comes on apace, and it 
will not be advisable to let the sun overtake us in the street ; 
it will be better to retire out of the city, and that your worship 
shelter yourself in some grove hereabouts, and I will return by 
daylight, and leave no nook or corner in all the town un- 
searched for this house, castle, or palace of my lady's ; and I 
shall have ill luck if I do not find it ; and as soon as I have 
found it, I will speak to her ladyship, and will tell her where 
and how your worship is waiting for her orders and direction 
for you to see her." — " Sancho," said Don Quixote, " the 
counsel you give I relish much, and accept of most heartily. 
Come along, son, and let us seek where we can take covert ; 
afterwards, as you say, you shall return, to seek, see, and speak 
to my lady, from whose discretion and courtesy I expect more 
than miraculous favours." Sancho stood upon thorns till he 
got his master out of town, lest he should detect the lie of the 
answer he carried him to the Sable Mountain, pretending it 
came from Dulcinea. He therefore made haste to be gone, 
which they did instantly ; and about two miles from the place, 
finding a grove or wood, in which Don Quixote took shelter, 
the knight ordered. Sancho to go back to the town, com- 
manding him not to return into his presence, till he had first 
spoken to his lady, beseeching her that she would be pleased 
to give her captive knight leave to wait upon her, and that she 
would deign to give him her blessing, that from thence he 
might hope for the most prosperous success in all his enter- 
prises. Sancho undertook to fulfil his command, and to 
bring him as good an answer now as he did the time before. 
" Go then, son," replied Don Quixote, " and be not in con- 
fusion when you stand before the blaze of that sun of beauty 



I56 THE STORY OF DON QUIXOTE 

you are going to seek. Happy thou above all the squires in 
the world ! Bear in mind, and be sure do not forget, how she 
receives you ; whether she changes colour while you are 
delivering your embassy; whether you perceive in her any 
uneasiness or disturbance at hearing my name ; whether her 
cushion cannot hold her, if, perchance, you find her seated on 
the rich dais of her dignity ; and, if she be standing, mark 
whether she stands sometimes upon one foot and sometimes 
upon the other ; whether she repeats the answer she gives you 
three or four times ; whether she lifts her hands to adjust her 
hair, though it be not disordered ; lastly, son, observe all her 
actions and motions ; for, by your relating them to me just as 
they were, I shall be able to give a shrewd guess at what she 
keeps concealed in the secret recesses of her heart, touching 
the affair of my love. Go, friend, and better fortune than 
mine be your guide ; and may better success, than what I fear 
and expect in this bitter solitude, send you back safe." — " I 
will go, and return quickly," said Sancho ; " in the meantime, 
good sir, enlarge that little heart of yours, Avhich at present can 
be no bigger than a hazel-nut, and consider the common saying, 
that ' a good heart breaks bad luck ; ' and ' where there is no 
bacon, there are no pins to hang it on ; ' and ' where we least 
think it, there starts the hare ;' this I say, because, though we 
could not find the castles or palaces of my Lady Dulcinea last 
night, now that it is daylight, I reckon to meet with them when I 
least think of it ; and when I have found them, let me alone to 
deal with her." — " Verily, Sancho," said Don Quixote, " you 
have the knack of applying your proverbs, so to the subject we 
are upon, that I pray Heaven send me better luck in obtaining 
my wishes ! " 

Upon this Sancho turned his back, and switched his Dapple, 
leaving Don Quixote on horseback, resting on his stirrups, and 
leaning on his lance, full of sad and confused thoughts. There 
we will leave him, and go along with Sancho Panza, who de- 
parted from his master no less confused and thoughtful than 
he ; insomuch that he was scarcely got out of the grove, when 
turning about his head, and finding that Don Quixote was not in 



AND HIS SQUIRE SANCHO PANZA. 1 57 

sight, he lighted from his beast, and sitting him down at the 
foot of a tree, began to talk to himself, and say, " Tell me now, 
brother Sancho, whither is your worship going ? are you going 
to seek some ass that is lost ? No, verily ! Then what are you 
going to seek ? Why I go to look for a thing of nothing, a prin- 
cess, and in her the sun of beauty, and all heaven together. 
Well, Sancho, and where think you to find all this ? Where ? 
in the grand city of Toboso. Very well ; and pray who sent 
you on this errand ? Why, the renowned knight Don Quixote 
de la Mancha, who redresses wrongs, and gives drink to the 
hungry, and meat to the thirsty. All this is very well ; and do 
you know her house, Sancho ? My master says it must be 
some royal palace or stately castle. And have you ever seen 
her ? Neither I, nor my master, have ever seen her. And do 
you think it would be right or advisable, that the people of 
Toboso should know you come with a design to inveigle away 
their princesses, and lead their ladies astray ? what if they 
should come, and grind your ribs with pure dry basting, and not 
leave you a whole bone in your skin ? Truly they would be 
much in the right of it, unless they please to consider, that I 
am commanded, and, being but a messenger, am not in fault. 
Trust not to that, Sancho ; for the Manchegans are as choleric 
as honourable, and so ticklish, nobody must touch them. Bad 
luck to them ! if they smoke us, woe be to us ! But why go I 
looking for three legs in a cat, for another man's pleasure? 
Besides, to look for Dulcinea up and down Toboso, is as if one 
should look for a lord at court, or a thief in the galleys." 

This soliloquy Sancho held with himself, and the upshot was, 
to return to it again, saying to himself, " Well ; there is a 
remedy for everything but death, under whose dominion we 
must all pass in spite of our teeth, at the end of our lives. This 
master of mine, by a thousand tokens that I have seen, is mad 
enough to be tied in his bed ; and in truth I come very little 
behind him ; nay, I am madder than he to follow him, and 
serve him, if there be any truth in the proverb that says, ' Show 
me thy company, and I will tell thee what thou art ; ' or in that 
other — ' Not with whom thou wert bred, but with whom thou 



158 THE STORY OF DON QUIXOTE 

art fed.' He then being a madman, as he really is, and so mad 
as frequently to mistake one thing for another, taking black for 
white, and white for black (as appeared plainly, when he said, 
the windmills were giants, and the monk's mules dromedaries, 
and the flocks of sheep armies of enemies, and many more 
matters to the same tune), it will not be very difficult to make him 
believe, that a country wench, the first I light upon, is the Lady 
Dulcinea ; and, should he not believe it, I will swear to it ; 
and if he swears, I will outswear him ; and if he persists, I will 
persist more than he, in such a manner that mine shall still be 
uppermost, come what will of it. Perhaps, by this positiveness, 
I shall put an end to his sending me again upon such errands, 
seeing what preposterous answers I bring him ; or, perhaps he 
will think, as I imagine he will, that some wicked enchanter of 
those he says bear him a spite, has changed her form to do him 
mischief and harm." 

This project set Sancho's spirit at rest, and he reckoned his 
business as good as half done ; so staying still where he was 
till towards evening, that Don Quixote might have room to 
think he had spent so much time in going to and returning 
from Toboso, everything fell out so luckily for him, that when 
he got up to mount his Dapple, he espied three country girls 
coming from Toboso toward the place where he was, upon three 
young asses. 

As soon as Sancho espied the lasses he rode back at a round 
rate to seek his master, whom he found breathing a thousand 
sighs and lamentations. As soon as Don Quixote saw him, 
he said, " Well, friend Sancho, am I to mark this day with a white 
or a black stone ?" — "Your worship," answered Sancho, "had 
better mark it with red ochre, as they do the inscriptions on 
professors' chairs, to be the more easily read by the lookers-on." — 
" By this," said Don Quixote, " you should bring good news." 
— " So good," answered Sancho, "that your worship has no more 
to do, but to clap spurs to Rozinante, and get out upon the 
plain, to see the Lady Dulcinea del Toboso, who with a couple 
of her damsels, is coming to make your worship a visit." — "Ah ! 
what is it you say, friend Sancho ? " said Don Quixote. " Take 



AND HIS SQUIRE SANCHO PANZA. 1 59 

care you do not impose on my real sorrow by a counterfeit joy." — 
'What should I get," answered Sancho, "by deceiving your 
worship, and being detected the next moment ? Come, sir, put 
on, and you will see the princess our mistress, arrayed and 
adorned, in short, like herself. She and her damsels are one 
blaze of flaming gold ; all strings of pearls, all diamonds, all 
rubies, all cloth of tissue above ten hands deep : their tresses 
loose about their shoulders are so many sunbeams playing with 
the wind ; and, what is more, they come mounted upon three 
pied belfreys, the finest one can lay eyes on." — " Palfreys, you 
would say, Sancho/' said Don Quixote. " There is no great 
difference, I think," answered Sancho, "between belfreys and 
palfreys ; but let them be mounted how they will, they are sure 
the finest creatures one would wish to see, especially my mis- 
tress the Princess Dulcinea, who ravishes one's senses." — " Let 
us go, son Sancho," answered Don Quixote ; " and, as a reward 
for this news, I bequeath you the choicest spoils I shall gain in 
my next adventure ; and if that will not satisfy you, I bequeath 
you the colts my three mares will foal this year upon our town- 
common." — " I stick to the colts," answered Sancho ; " for it is 
not very certain, that the spoils of our next adventure will be 
worth much." 

By this time they were got out of the wood, and espied the 
three girls very near. Don Quixote darted his eyes over all 
the road toward Toboso, and seeing nobody but the three, was 
much troubled, and asked Sancho, " Whether they were come 
out of the city when he left them ? " — " Out of the city ! " 
answered Sancho ; " are you worship's eyes in the nape of your 
neck, that you do not see it is they who are coming, shining like 
the sun at noon-day?" — "I see only three country-girls," 
answered Don Quixote, " on three asses." — " Now, grant me 
patience ! " answered Sancho ; " is it possible that three palfreys, 
or how do you call them, white as the driven snow, should ap- 
pear to you to be asses ? you shall pluck off this beard of mine 
if that be so." — " I tell you, friend Sancho," answered Don 
Quixote, " that it is as certain they are asses, as I am Don 
Quixote, and you Sancho Panza ; at least such they seem to 



l6o THE STORY OF DON QUIXOTE 

me." — " Sir," said Sancho, " snuff those eyes of yours, and 
come and make your reverence to the mistress of your thoughts, 
who is just at hand." So saying, he advanced a little forward to 
meet the country girls, and, alighting from Dapple, laid hold of 
one 01 their asses by the halter ; then bending both knees to 
the ground, he said, " Queen, princess, and duchess of beauty, 
let your haughtiness and greatness be pleased to receive into your 
grace and good-liking your captive knight, who stands yonder, 
turned into stone, in total disorder, and without any pulse, to 
find himself before your magnificent presence. I am Sancho 
Panza, his squire, and he is that forlorn knight Don Quixote de 
la Mancha, otherwise called the ' Knight of the Sorrowful 
Figure.' " 

Don Quixote had now placed himself on his knees close by 
Sancho, and with staring and disturbed eyes, looked wistfully at 
her whom Sancho called queen and lady;- but as he saw no- 
thing in her but a plain country girl, and homely enough, he 
was confounded and amazed, without daring to open his lips. 
The girls, too, were astonished to see their companion stopped 
by two men of such different aspects, and both on their knees ; 
but she who was stopped, broke silence, and in an angry tone 
said, " Get out of the road and be hanged, and let us pass by, 
for we are in haste." To which Sancho made answer, " O 
princess and universal lady of Toboso, does not your magnificent 
heart relent to see, kneeling before your sublimated presence, 
the pillar and prop of knight-errantry ? " which one of the other 
two hearing, said, checking her beast that was turning out of the 
way, " Look ye, how these small gentry come to make a jest of 
us poor country- girls, as if we did not know how to give them as 
good as they bring. Get ye gone your way, and let us go ours, 
and so speed you well" — " Rise, Sancho," said Don Quixote, 
hearing this ; " for I now perceive that Fortune, not yet satisfied 
with afflicting me, has barred all the avenues, whereby any 
relief might come to this wTetched soul I bear about me in the 
flesh. And thou, O extreme of all that is valuable, utmost 
limit of all human gracefulness, though now some wicked 
enchanter persecutes me, spreading clouds over my eyes, and 



AND HIS SQUIRE SANCHO PANZA. l6l 

has to them, and them only, changed and transformed thy peer- 
less beauty and countenance into that of a poor country wench ; 
if he has not converted mine also into that of some goblin, to 
render it abominable in your eyes, afford me one kind look, and 
let these bended knees, before your disguised beauty, tell you 
the humility wherewith my soul adores you." — " Marry, come 
up,'' said the girl, " with your idle gibberish ! Get you gone, and 
let us go, and we shall be obliged to you." Sancho moved off, 
and let her go, highly delighted that he was come off so well 
with his contrivance. The imaginary Dulcinea was scarcely at 
liberty, when, pricking her beast with a goad she had in a stick, 
she began to scour along the field ; and the ass, feeling the 
smart more than usual, fell a-kicking and wincing in such a 
manner, that down came the Lady Dulcinea to the ground. 
Don Quixote seeing this, ran to help her up, and Sancho to 
adjust the pack-saddle that was turned round. This being- 
righted, and Don Quixote desirous to raise his enchanted mis- 
tress in his arms, and set her upon her palfrey, the lady, getting 
up from the ground, saved him that trouble ; for retiring three 
or four steps back, she took a little run, and clapping both hands 
upon the ass's crupper, jumped into the saddle lighter than a 
falcon, and seated herself astride, like a man. Whereupon 
Sancho said, " By Saint Roque, madam or mistress is lighter 
than a hawk, and able to teach the most expert Cordovan or 
Mexican how to mount gipsy-fashion. She springs into the 
saddle at a jump, and without the help of spurs, makes her 
palfrey run like a wild ass ; and her damsels are as good at it 
as she ; they all fly like the wind." And so it really was ; for 
Dulcinea being re-mounted, they all made after her, and set a- 
running, without looking behind them, for above half a league. 
Don Quixote followed them, as far as he could with his eyes, 
and when they were out of sight, turning to Sancho, said, 
" Sancho, what think you ? how am I persecuted by enchanters ! 
and take notice how far their malice, and the grudge they bear 
me, extends, even to the depriving me of the pleasure I should 
have had in seeing my mistress in her own proper form. And 
you must also observe, Sancho, that these traitors were not 



l62 THE STORY OF DON QUIXOTE 

contented with barely changing and transforming my Dulcinea, 
but they must transform and metamorphose her into the mean 
and deformed resemblance of that country wench ; at the same 
time, robbing her of that which is peculiar to great ladies, the 
fragrant scent occasioned by being always among flowers and 
perfumes ; for I must tell you, Sancho, that when I approached 
to help Dulcinea upon her palfrey, as you call it, though to me 
it appeared to be nothing but an ass, it seemed to me that she 
had been eating garlic." — " Oh, scoundrels ! " cried Sancho, 
" oh, barbarous and evil-minded enchanters ! Oh ! that I might 
see you all strung and hung up by the gills like herrings a- 
smoking ! It might, one would think, have sufficed ye, rogues 
as ye are, to have changed the pearls of my lady's eyes into 
cork-galls, and her hair of the purest gold into bristles of a 
red cow's tail, and lastly, all her features from beautiful to 
deformed." — " It might indeed, friend," replied his master ; 
"but tell me, Sancho, that which to me appeared to be a 
pack-saddle, and which you adjusted, was it a side-saddle 
or a pillion?" — "It was a side-saddle," answered Sancho, 
"with a field-covering, worth half a kingdom for the rich- 
ness of it." — "And why could not I see all this, Sancho?" 
said Don Quixote. " Well, I say it again, and will repeat it a 
thousand times, that I am the most unfortunate of men." The 
sly rogue Sancho had much ado to forbear laughing, to hear the 
fooleries of his master, who was so delicately gulled. In fine, 
after many other discourses passed between them, they mounted 
their beasts again, and followed the road to Saragossa, Don 
Quixote exceeding pensive, to think what a base trick the en- 
chanters had played him, in transforming his Lady Dulcinea 
into the homely figure of a country wench ; nor could he devise 
what course to take to restore her to her former state. And 
these meditations so distracted him, that without perceiving it, 
he let drop the bridle on Rozinante's neck ; who, finding the 
liberty that was given him, at every step turned aside to take a 
mouthful of the fresh grass with which those fields abounded. 
Sancho brought him back out of his maze by saying to him, 
" Sir, sorrow was made, not for beasts, but men ; but if men 



AND HIS SQUIRE SANCHO PANZA. 163 

give too much way to it, they become beasts. Rouse, sir, 
recollect yourself, and gather up Rozinante's reins ; cheer up, 
awake, and exert that lively courage so befitting a knight-errant. 
What in the world is the matter ? Are we here, or in France ? 
Plague take all the Dulcineas in the world, since the welfare of 
a single knight-errant is of more worth than all the enchantments 
and transformations of the earth." — " Peace, Sancho," answered 
Don Quixote, " peace, I say, and do not utter blasphemies 
against that enchanted lady, whose disgrace and misfortune are 
owing to me alone, since they proceed entirely from the envy the 
wicked bear to me." — " I say so too," answered Sancho ; " who 
saw her then and sees her now, his heart must melt with grief, I 
vow." — " Well may you say so, Sancho," replied Don Quixote, 
" you who saw her in the full lustre of her beauty ; for the 
enchantment extended not to disturb your sight ; against me 
alone, and against my eyes, was the force of its poison directed. 
Nevertheless, I have hit upon one thing, Sancho, which is, that 
you did not give me a true description of her beauty ; for, if I 
remember right, you said her eyes were of pearl ; now eyes 
that look like pearl are fitter for a sea-bream than a lady. I 
rather think Dulcinea's eyes must be of verdant emeralds, arched 
over with two celestial bows, that serve for eye-brows. Take 
therefore those pearls from her eyes, and apply them to her 
teeth ; for doubtless, Sancho, you mistook eyes for teeth." — " It 
may be so," answered Sancho ; " for her beauty confounded me, 
as much as her deformity did your worship. One thing, dear 
sir, troubles me more than all the rest ; which is, to think what 
must be done when your worship shall overcome some giant, or 
some other knight-errant, and send him to present himself 
before the beauty of the Lady Dulcinea. Where shall this poor 
giant, or miserable vanquished knight, be able to find her? 
Methinks I see them sauntering up and down Toboso, and 
looking about, like gabies, for my Lady Dulcinea ; and though 
they should meet her in the middle of the street, they will no 
more know her than they would my father." — " Perhaps, San- 
cho," answered Don Quixote, " the enchantment may not extend 



164 THE STORY OF DON QUIXOTE 

so far as to conceal Dulcinea from the knowledge of the van- 
quished knights or giants, who shall present themselves before 
her ; and we will make the experiment upon one or two of the 
first I overcome, and send them with orders to return and give 
me an account of what happens with respect to this business." 
— " I say, sir," replied Sancho, ." that I mightily approve of 
what your worship has said ; for by this trial we shall come 
to the knowledge of what we desire ; and if she is concealed 
from your worship alone, the misfortune will be more yours 
than hers." 

Don Quixote would have answered Sancho, but was prevented 
by a cart's crossing the road before him, loaden with the 
strangest figures and personages imaginable. He who guided 
the mules and served for carter, was a frightful demon. The 
cart was uncovered, and opened to the sky, without awning or 
w-icker sides. The first figure that presented itself to Don 
Quixote's eyes was that of Death itself, with a human visage. 
Close by him sat an angel, with large painted wings. On one 
side stood an emperor, with a crown, seemingly of gold, on his 
head. At Death's feet sat the god called Cupid, not blind- 
folded, but with his bow, quiver, and arrows. There was also a 
knight completely armed, excepting only that he had no morion 
nor casque, but a hat with a large plume of feathers of divers 
colours. With these came other persons differing both in dress 
and countenances. All which, appearing of a sudden, did in 
some sort startle Don Quixote, and frightened Sancho to the 
heart. But the knight presently rejoiced at it, believing it to be 
some new and perilous adventure ; so, with this thought, he 
planted himself just before the cart, and with a loud menacing 
voice, said, " Carter, coachman, demon, or whatever you are, 
delay not to tel 1 me who you are, whither you are going, and 
who are the persons you are carrying in that coach-waggon, 
which looks more like Charon's ferry-boat than any cart now in 
fashion." To which the demon, stopping the cart, calmly 
replied, " Sir, we are strolling players ; this morning, we have 
been performing, in a village on the other side of yon hill, a 



AND HIS SQUIRE SANCHO PANZA. 1 65 

piece representing the Parliament of Death, and this evening 
we are to play it again in that village just before us ; which, 
being so near, to save ourselves the trouble of dressing and 
undressing, we come in the clothes we are to act our parts in. 
That lad there acts Death ; that other an angel ; yonder 
woman, our author's wife, a queen ; that other a soldier ; he an 
emperor; I a demon ; and I am one of the principal personages 
of the drama, for in this company I have all the chief parts." — 
" Upon the faith of a knight-errant," answered Don Quixote, 
" when I first espied this cart, I imagined some grand adven- 
ture offered itself ; and I say now, that it is absolutely neces- 
sary, if one would be undeceived, to lay one's hands upon 
appearances. God be with you, good people ; go and act your 
play, and if there be anything in which I may be of service to 
you, command me ; for I will do it readily, and with a good- 
will, having been, from my youth, a great admirer of theatrical 
representations." 

Just then up came one of the company, in an antic dress, 
hung round with abundance of bells, and carrying at the end of 
a *tick three blown ox-bladders. This masque, approaching 
Don Quixote, began to fence with the stick, and to beat the 
bladders against the ground, jumping, and tinkling all his bells ; 
which so startled Rozinante, that, taking the bit between his 
teeth, he fell a-running about the field at a greater pace than his 
old bones seemed to promise. Sancho, considering the danger 
his master was in, leaped from Dapple, and ran to help him, 
but by the time he was come up to him, he was already upon 
the ground, and close by him Rozinante, who fell together with 
his master, the usual end and upshot of Rozinante's frolics and 
adventurings. But scarce had Sancho quitted his beast, to 
assist Don Quixote, when the bladder-dancing demon jumped 
upon Dapple, and thumping him with the bladders, fear and 
noise, more than the smart, made him fly through the field 
toward the village, where they were going to act. Sancho 
beheld Dapple's career, and his master's fall, and did not know 
which of the two necessities he should apply to first ; but, in short, 



l66 THE STORY OF DON QUIXOTE 

like a good squire and good servant, the love he bore his master 
prevailed over his affection for his ass, though every time he 
saw the bladders hoisted in the air, and fall upon the crupper of 
his Dapple, they were to him so many tortures and terrors of death, 
and he could have wished those blows had fallen on the apple 
of his own eyes, rather than on the least hair of his ass's tail. 
In this perplexity and tribulation, he came up to Don Quixote, 
who was in a much worse plight than he could have wished, 
and helping him to get upon Rozinante, said to him, " Sir, the 
demon has run away with Dapple." — " What demon ?" demanded 
Don Quixote. — " He with the bladders," answered Sancho. " I 
will recover him," replied Don Quixote, " though he should hide 
him in the depths of the mighty deep. Follow me, Sancho, for 
the cart moves but slowly, and the mules shall make satisfac- 
tion for the loss of Dapple." — " There is no need," answered 
Sancho, " to make such haste ; moderate your anger, sir, for the 
demon I think has already abandoned Dapple, and is gone his 
way." And so it was ; for the fellow having fallen with Dapple, 
in imitation of Don Quixote and Rozinante, trudged on foot 
toward the town, and the ass turned back to his master. 
" Nevertheless," said Don Quixote, " it will not be amiss to 
chastise the unmannerliness of this demon at the expense of 
some of his company, though it were the emperor himself." — 
" Good, your worship," said Sancho, " never think of it, but take 
my advice, which is, never to meddle with players, for they are 
a people mightily beloved. I have seen a player taken up for 
two murders, and get off scot-free. Your worship must know, 
that as they are merry folks and give pleasure, all people favour 
them — everybody protects, assists, and esteems them." — " For 
all that," answered Don Quixote, "that farcical demon shall not 
escape me, nor have cause to brag, though all human kind 
favour him." 

So saying, he rode after the cart, and calling aloud, said, 
" Hold, stop a little, merry sirs, and let me teach you how to 
treat asses and cattle, which serve to mount the squires of 
knights-errant." Don Quixote's cries were so loud, that the 



AND HIS SQUIRE SANCHO PANZA. 167 

players heard him, and judging of his design by his words, in 
an instant out jumped Death, and after him the emperor, the 
carter-demon, and the angel ; nor did the queen, or the god 
Cupid, stay behind ; and all of them taking up stones, ranged 
themselves in battle-array, waiting to receive Don Quixote at 
the points of their pebbles. Don Quixote, seeing them posted 
in such order, and so formidable a battalion, with arms up- 
lifted, ready to discharge a ponderous volley of stones, checked 
Rozinante with the bridle, and set himself to consider how he 
might attack them with least danger to his person. While he 
delayed, Sancho came up, and, seeing him in a posture of 
attacking that well-formed brigade, said to him, " It is mere 
madness, sir, to attempt such an enterprise ; consider, there 
is no fencing against a flail, nor any defensive armour against 
stones and brick-bats, unless it be thrusting one's-self into a 
bell of brass. Consider also, that it is rather rashness than 
courage for one man alone to encounter an army, where Death 
is present, and where emperors fight in person, and are assisted 
by good and bad angels. But if this consideration does not 
prevail with you to be quiet, be assured, that among all those 
who stand there, though they appear to be princes, kings, and 
emperors, there is not one knight-errant." — " Now, indeed," said 
Don Quixote, " you have hit the point, Sancho, which only can, 
and must make me change my determinate resolution. I neither 
can, nor ought to draw my sword, as I have often told you, 
against any who are not dubbed knights. To you it belongs, 
Sancho, to revenge the affront offered to your Dapple ; and I 
from hence will encourage and assist you with my voice, and 
with salutary instructions/' — "There is no need, sir, to be 
revenged on anybody ; for good Christians should not take 
revenge for injuries ; besides, I will settle it with my ass to 
submit the injury done him to my will, which is, to live peace- 
ably all the days that Heaven shall give me of life." — " Since 
this is your resolution, good Sancho, discreet Sancho, Christian 
Sancho, and pure Sancho," replied Don Quixote, " let us leaVe 
these phantoms, and seek better and more substantial adven« 



1 68 THE STORY OF DON QUIXOTE. 

tures ; for this country, I see, is like to afford us many and very 
extraordinary ones." Then he wheeled Rozinante about ; 
Sancho took his Dapple ; Death and all his flying squadron 
returned to their cart, and pursued their way. And this was the 
happy conclusion of the terrible adventure of Death's cart ; 
thanks to the. wholesome advice Sancho Panza gave his 
master. 




CHAPTER XII. 

The Knight of the Looking-glasses — Don Quixote overthrows 
him in combat. 

ON QUIXOTE and his squire passed the night under 
some lofty and shady trees. The knight, at Sancho's 
persuasion, refreshed himself with some of the pro- 
visions carried by Dapple ; and, during supper, 
Sancho said to his master, " Sir, what a fool should I have 
been, had I chosen, as a reward for my good news, the spoils of 
the first adventure your worship should achieve, before the 
three ass-colts ! Verily, verily, a sparrow in the hand is better 
than a vulture upon the wing." 

Presently they had a mind to sleep ; so Sancho, unrigging 
Dapple, turned him loose into abundant pasture. But he did 
not take off the saddle from Rozinante's back, it being the ex- 
press command of his master, that he should continue saddled 
all the time they kept the field or did not sleep under a roof ; 
for it was an ancient established custom, and religiously observed 
among knights-errant, to take off the bridle, and hang it at the 
pommel of the saddle, but by no means to take off the saddle. 
Sancho observed this rule, and gave Rozinante the same liberty 
he had given Dapple — the friendship of which pair was so 
singular and reciprocal, that as soon as the two beasts came 
together, they would fall to scratching one another with their 
teeth, and when they were tired, or satisfied, Rozinante would 
stretch his neck at least half a yard across Dapple's, and both, 
fixing their eyes attentively on the ground, would stand three 



I-JO THE STORY OF DON QUIXOTE 

days in that manner, at least so long as they were let alone, or 
till hunger compelled them to seek some food. 

At length Sancho fell asleep at the foot of a cork-tree, and Don 
Quixote slumbered under an oak. But it was not long before he 
was awakened by a noise behind him, and presently perceived 
two men on horseback, one of whom dismounting said to the 
other, " Alight, friend, and unbridle the horses ; for this place 
seems as if it would afford them pasture enough, and me that 
silence and solitude my thoughts require." Then, throwing 
himself down, his armour made a rattling noise ; from whence 
Don Quixote concluded he must be a knight-errant ; so going 
to Sancho, who was fast asleep, he pulled him by the arm, and 
having with some difficulty waked him, he then said, with a low 
voice, ''Brother Sancho, we have an adventure." — "Heaven 
send it be a good one," answered Sancho ; " and pray, sir, 
where may her ladyship Madam Adventure be ? " — " Where, 
Sancho ? ; ' replied Don Quixote. " Turn your eyes and look, and 
you will see a knight-errant lying along, who, to my thoughts, 
does not seem to be over-pleased ; for I saw him throw himself 
off his horse, and stretch himself on the ground, with some 
signs of discontent ; and his armour rattled as he fell." — u But 
by what do you gather," said Sancho, " that this is an adven- 
ture ?" — " I will not say," answered Don Quixote, " that this is 
altogether an adventure, but an introduction to one ; for adven- 
tures usually begin thus." 

By this time the strange knight began to sing a doleful ballad, 
ending it with a groan as if from the bottom of his heart ; and 
then he was heard mournfully saying, " Oh, the most beautiful 
and most ungrateful woman of the world ! Is it then possible, 
Casildea de Yandalia, that you should suffer this your captive 
knight to consume and pine away in continual travels and 
laborious toils ? Is it not enough that I have caused you to be 
acknowledged the most consummate beauty in the world by all 
the knights of Navarre, all those of Leon, all the Andalusians, 
all the Castilians, ay, and all the knights of La Mancha too ?" 
— " Not so," said Don Quixote ; "for I am of La Mancha, and 
never have acknowledged any such thing ; neither could I, nor 






AND HIS SQUIRE SANCHO PANZA. 171 

ought I, to confess a thing so prejudicial to the beauty of my 
mistress. Now you see, Sancho, how this knight raves." 
Hearing voices, the knight called to them, and Don Quixote, 
with Sancho, went up to him ; who, laying hold of Don 
Quixote by the arm, said, " Sit down here, Sir Knight." So they 
sat down together upon the hard ground, very peaceably and 
sociably, as if, at daybreak, they were not to break one an- 
other's heads. " Peradventure you are in love, Sir Knight," said 
he of the Wood to Don Quixote. " By misadventure I am," 
answered Don Quixote ; " though the mischiefs arising from 
well-placed affections ought rather to be accounted blessings 
than disasters." — " That is true," replied he of the Wood, " sup- 
posing that disdains did not disturb our reason and under- 
standing ; but when they are many, they seem to have the 
nature of revenge." — " I never was disdained by my mistress," 
answered Don Quixote. " No, verily," said Sancho, who stood 
close by ; " for my lady is as gentle as a. lamb, and as soft as a 
pat of butter." — " Is this your squire ? " demanded the Knight 
of the Wood. " He is," replied Don Quixote. " I never in my 
life saw a squire," replied the Knight of the Wood, " who durst 
presume to talk where his lord was talking ; at least, yonder 
stands mine, as tall as his father, and it cannot be proved that 
he ever opened his lips where I was speaking." — " In faith," 
said Sancho, " I have talked, and can talk, before one as good 

as , and perhaps, but let that rest ; for the less said the 

better." Here the Knight of the Wood's squire took Sancho by 
the arm, and said, " Let us two go where we may talk by our- 
selves, in squire-like discourse, all we have a mind to, and leave 
theSe masters of ours to their own prate." 

Having gone a little apart, the Squire of the Wood said to 
Sancho, " It is a toilsome life we lead, sir, we who are squires to 
knights-errant ; in good truth we eat our bread in the sweat of 
our brows, which is one of the curses God laid upon our first 
parents." — " It may also be said," added Sancho, " that we eat 
it in the frost of our bodies ; for who endure more heat and 
cold than your miserable squires to knight-errantry? nay, it 
would not be quite so bad did we but eat at all, for good fare 



172 THE STORY OF DON QUIXOTE 

lessens care ; but it now and then happens that we pass a whole 
day or two without breaking our fast, unless it be upon air." — 
" All this may be endured," said he of the Wood, " with the 
hopes we entertain of the reward ; for if the knight-errant, 
whom the squire serves, is not over and above unlucky, he must 
in a short time find himself recompensed, at least with a hand- 
some government of some island, or some pretty earldom." — 
" I," replied Sancho, " have already told my master that I 
should be satisfied with the government of any island ; and he 
is so noble and so generous, that he has promised it me a thou- 
sand times." — " I," said he of the Wood, " should think myself 
amply rewarded for all my services with a canonry ; and my 
master has already ordered me one." — "Why, then," said 
Sancho, " belike your master is a knight in the ecclesiastical 
way, and so has it in his power to bestow these sorts of rewards 
on his faithful squires ; but mine is a mere layman, though I 
remember some discreet persons (but in my opinion with no 
very good design) advised him to endeavour to be an arch- 
bishop ; but he rejected their counsel, and would be nothing but 
an emperor. I trembled all the while, lest he should take it into 
his head to be of the church, because I am not qualified to hold 
ecclesiastical preferments ,- and, to say the truth, sir, though I 
look like a man, I am a very beast in church matters." — " Truly, 
you are under a great mistake," said he of the Wood ; " for 
your island governments are not all of them so inviting. It 
would be far better for us, who profess this service, to go home 
to our houses, and pass our time there in more easy employ- 
ments — such as hunting or fishing ; for what squire is there in 
the world so poor as not to have his nag, his brace of grey- 
hounds, and his angle-rod, to divert himself withal in his own 
village?" 

" I want nothing of all this," answered Sancho ; " it is true, 
indeed, I have no horse, but then I have an ass that is worth 
twice as much as my master's steed. Hang it ! if I would swap 
with him, though he should give me four bushels of barley to 
boot. Perhaps, sir, you will take for a joke the price I set upon 
my Dapple, for dapple is the colour of my ass. And then I 






AND HIS SQUIRE SANCHO PANZA. 173 

cannot want greyhounds, our town being overstocked with 
them ; besides, sporting is the more pleasant when it is at other 
people's cost." 

Here the Squire of the Wood said, " Methinks, we have talked 
till our tongues cleave to the roof of our mouths ; but I have 
brought, hanging at my saddle-bow, that which will loosen 
them." And, rising up, he soon returned with a large bottle of 
wine, and a pasty half a yard long ; for it was oi* a rabbit, so 
large, that Sancho, at lifting it, thought verily it must contain a 
whole goat, or at least a large kid. " And do you carry all this 
about with you?" said he. "Why," answered the other, "I 
have a better cupboard behind me on my horse, than a general 
has with him upon a inarch." Sancho at once fell to ; and 
swallowing mouthfuls in the dark, said, " Your worship is indeed 
a squire, wanting for nothing, as this banquet shows ; and net 
like me, a poor unfortunate wretch, who have nothing in my 
wallet but a piece of cheese, so hard you might knock out a 
giant's brains with it ; and, to bear it company, four dozen of 
acorns, and as many hazel-nuts and walnuts ; thanks to my 
master's stinginess, and to the opinion he has, that knights- 
errant ought to feed only upon dried fruits and wild salads." — 
" By my faith, brother," replied he of the Wood, " I have no 
stomach for your wild pears, or your sweet thistles, or your 
mountain roots ; let our masters have them, with their laws of 
chivalry ; and let them eat what they commend. I carry cold 
meats, and this bottle hanging at my saddle-pommel, happen 
what will." And so saying, he put it into Sancho's hand, who, 
grasping and setting it to his mouth, stood gazing at the stars 
for a quarter of an hour ; and having done drinking, he let fall 
his head on one side, and, fetching a deep sigh, said, " Oh, how 
good it is ! But tell me, sir, is not this wine of Ciudad Real ?" 
— " You have a distinguishing palate," answered he of the Wood ; 
" it is of no other growth, and besides has some years over its 
head."—" Trust me for that," said Sancho, " I always hit right, 
and guess the kind. But no wonder ; for I have had in my 
family, by the father's side, the two most exquisite tasters that 
La Mancha has known for many ages ; for proof whereof, there 



174 THE STORY OF DON QUIXOTE 

happened to them what I am going to relate. To each of them 
was given a taste of a certain hogshead, and their opinion 
asked of the condition, quality, goodness, or badness of the 
wine. The one tried it with the tip of his tongue, the other put 
it to his nose. The first said the wine savoured of iron, the 
second said it had rather a twang of goat's leather. The owner 
protested the vessel was clean, and the wine neat, so that it 
could not taste either of iron or leather. Notwithstanding this, 
the two famous tasters stood positively to what they had said. 
Time went on ; the wine was sold off, and at rincing the hogs- 
head, there was found in it a small key hanging to a leather 
thong. Judge then, sir, whether one of that race may not very 
well undertake to give his opinion in these matters." 

While the squires were thus talking, their masters were not 
silent ; and the Knight of the Wood informed Don Quixote 
that the lady upon whom his love was placed was the peerless 
Casildea de Vandalia ; "who," continued he, "has at last com- 
manded me to travel over all the provinces of Spain, and oblige 
all the knights I shall find wandering therein to confess that 
she alone excels in beauty all beauties this day living, and that 
I am the most valiant knight in the world. In obedience to 
which command, I have already traversed the greatest part of 
Spain, and have vanquished divers knights who have dared to 
contradict me. But what I am most proud of, and value my- 
self most upon is, the having vanquished, in single combat, the 
so renowned knight Don Quixote de la Mancha, and made him 
confess that my Casildea is more beautiful than his Dulcinea : 
and I make account, that in this conquest alone, I have 
vanquished all the knights in the world ; for that very Don 
Quixote I speak of has conquered them all, and I, having 
overcome him, his glory, his fame, and his honour, are trans- 
ferred and passed over to my person ; so that the innumerable 
exploits of the said Don Quixote are already mine, and placed 
to my account." 

Don Quixote was amazed to hear the Knight of the Wood, 
and "you lie" was at the tip of his tongue ; but he restrained 
himself the best he could, in order to make him confess the lie 



AND HIS SQUIRE SANCHO PANZA. 1 75 

with his own mouth, and therefore said very calmly, " Sir 
Knight, that you may have vanquished most of the knights-errant 
of Spain, yea, and of the whole world, I will not dispute ; but, that 
you have conquered Don Quixote de la Mancha, I somewhat 
doubt : it might, indeed, be somebody resembling him, though 
there are very few such." — " Why not ?." replied he of the Wood ; 
" by the canopy of Heaven, I fought with Don Quixote, van- 
quished him, and made him submit : by the same token that he 
is tall of stature, thin-visaged, upright-bodied, robust-limbed, 
grizzle-haired, hawk-nosed, with large black mustachoes ; he 
gives himself the name of the Knight of the Sorrowful Figure ; 
his squire is a country fellow, called Sancho Panza ; he rides a 
famous steed called Rozinante : in a word, he has for the mispress 
of his thoughts one Dulcinea del Toboso. If all these tokens 
are not sufficient to prove the truth of what I say, here is my 
sword which shall make incredulity itself believe it." — " Be not 
in a passion, Sir Knight," said Don Quixote, " and hear what I 
have to say. You are to know, that this Don Quixote you speak 
of is the dearest friend I have in the world, insomuch that I may 
say he is, as it were, my very self; and by the tokens and marks 
you have given of him, so exact, and so precise, I cannot but 
think it must be himself that you have subdued. On the other 
side, I see with my eyes, and feel with my hands, that it cannot 
be the same, unless it be, that, having many enchanters his 
enemies, some one or other of them may have assumed his 
shape, and suffered himself to be vanquished, in order to defraud 
him of the fame his exalted feats of chivalry have acquired over 
the face of the whole earth. And for confirmation hereof, you 
must know, that these enchanters, his enemies, but two days 
ago, transformed the figure and person of the beautiful Dulcinea 
del Toboso into those of a dirty, mean country wench, and in 
like manner they must have transformed Don Quixote. And if all 
this be not sufficient to justify this truth, here stands Don Quix- 
ote himself, ready to maintain it by force of arms, on foot, or on 
horseback, or in whatever manner you please." So saying, he rose 
up, and grasping his sword, expected what resolution the Knight 
of the Wood would take ; who very calmly answered, " He who 



176 THE STORY OF DON QUIXOTE 

could once vanquish you, Signor Don Quixote, when transformed, 
may well hope to make you yield in your own proper person. 
But as knights-errant should by no means do their feats of arms 
in the dark, like robbers and ruffians, let us wait for daylight ; 
and the condition of our combat shall be, that the conquered 
shall be entirely at the mercy and disposal of the conqueror, to 
do with him whatever he pleases, provided always that he com- 
mand nothing but what a knight may with honour submit to." — 
" I am entirely satisfied with this condition," answered Don 
Quixote ; and hereupon they both went to look for their squires, 
whom they found snoring in the very same posture in which 
they had fallen asleep. They awaked them, and ordered them, 
to get ready their steeds, for, at sunrise, they were to engage in 
a deadly and unparalleled single combat. At which news Sancho 
was thunderstruck, and ready to swoon, in dread of his master's 
safety, from what he had heard the Squire of the Wood tell of 
his master's valour. But the two squires without speaking a 
word went to look after their cattle, and found them all to- 
gether ; for the three horses and Dapple had already made 
friends. 

By the way, the Squire of the Wood said to Sancho, "You 
must understand, brother, that the fighters of Andalusia have a 
cubtom when they are seconds in any combat, not to stand idle 
with their arms across, while the others are fighting. This I say 
to give you notice, that while our masters are engaged, we must 
fight too, and make splinters of one another." — " This custom, 
signor squire," answered Sancho,. " may be current among the 
ruffians and fighters you speak of; but among the squires of 
knights-errant, no, not in thought ; at least I have not heard my 
master talk of any such custom, and he has all the laws and 
ordinances of knight-errantry by heart. But taking it for granted 
that there is an express statute for the squires engaging while 
their masters are at it, yet will I not comply with it, but rather 
pay the penalty imposed upon such peaceable squires, which I 
daresay cannot be above a couple of pounds of white wax ; and 
I will rather pay them, for I know they will cost me less than 
the money I shall spend in plasters to get my head cured, which 






AND HIS SQUIRE SANCHO PANZA. IJJ 

I already reckon as cut and divided in twain. Besides, another 
tiling which makes it impossible for me to fight is, my having no 
sword, for I never wore one in my life." — " I know a remedy for 
that," said he of the Wood : " I have here a couple of 
linen bags of the same size ; you shall take one and I the other, 
and we will have a bout at bag-blows with equal weapons." — 
" With all my heart," answered Sancho ; " for such a battle will 
rather dust our jackets, than wound our persons." — " It must not 
be quite so either," replied the other ; " for, lest the wind should 
blow them aside, we must put in them half a dozen clean and 
smooth pebbles, of equal weight ; and thus we may brush one 
another without much harm or damage." — " Body of my father ! " 
answered Sancho, " what sable fur, what bottoms of carded cot- 
ton, he puts into the bags, that we may not break our noddles, 
or beat our bones to powder ! But though they should be filled 
with balls of raw silk, be it known to you, sir, I shall not fight : 
let our masters fight, and hear of it in another world, and let us 
drink and live; for time takes care to take away our lives, with- 
out our seeking new appetites to destroy them before they reach 
their appointed term, and drop with ripeness." — " For all that," 
replied he of the Wood, " we must fight, if it be but for half an 
hour." — " No, no," answered Sancho ; " I shall not be so dis- 
courteous, or so ungrateful, as to have any quarrel at all, be it 
never so little, with a gentleman, after having eaten of his bread 
and drunk of his drink : besides, who the dickens can set about 
dry fighting, without anger and without provocation." — " If that 
be all," said he of the Wood, " I will provide a sufficient remedy; 
which is, that before we begin the combat, I will come up to 
your worship, and fairly give you three or four good cuffs, which 
will lay you flat at my feet, and awaken your choler, though it 
slept sounder than a dormouse." — "Against that expedient," 
answered Sancho, " I have another not a whit behind it : I will 
take a good cudgel, and before you reach me to awaken my 
choler, I will bastinado yours so sound asleep, that it shall never 
awake more but in another world, where it is well known I am not 
a man to let anybody handle my face : and let every one take 
heed to the arrow ; though the safest way would be for each man 

M 



I78 THE STORY OF DON QUIXOTE 

to let his choler sleep ; for nobody knows what is in another, 
and some people go out for wool, and come home shorn them- 
selves ; and in all times blessed are the peace-makers, and 
cursed the peace-breakers : for if a cat, pursued and pent in a 
room, and hard put to it, turns into a lion, goodness knows what 
I, that am a man, may turn into ; — and therefore, from hence- 
forward I intimate to your worship, signor squire, that all the 
damage and mischief that shall result from our quarrel must be 
placed to your account." — " It is well," replied he of the Wood ; 
" come daylight, and we shall see how it will be." 

When the two knights met, Don Quixote viewed his antago- 
nist, and found he had his helmet on, and the beaver down, 
so that he could not see his face ; but he observed him to be 
a strong-made man, and not very tall. Over his armour he 
wore a kind of loose coat, seemingly of the finest gold, be- 
sprinkled with sundry little moons of resplendent looking-glass ; 
which made him proper to be called the Knight of the Looking- 
glasses, rather than of the Wood. A great number of green, 
yellow, and white feathers waved about his helmet. His lance, 
which stood leaning against a tree, was very large and thick, 
and headed with pointed steel above a span long. Don Quix- 
ote viewed and noted everything, judging by all he saw and 
remarked, that the aforesaid knight must needs be of great 
strength ; but he was not therefore daunted ; on the contrary, 
with a gallant boldness, he said to the Knight of the Looking- 
glasses, " Sir Knight, if your great eagerness to fight has not ex- 
hausted too much of your courtesy, I entreat you to lift up your 
beaver a little, that I may see whether the sprightliness of your 
countenance be answerable to that of your figure." — "Whether 
you be vanquished or victorious in this enterprise, Sir Knight," 
answered he of the Looking-glasses, " there will be time and 
leisure enough for seeing me ; and if I do not now comply with 
your desires, it is because I think I should do a very great 
wrong to the beautiful Casildea de Vandalia, to lose so much 
time, as the lifting up my beaver would take up, before I make 
you confess what you know I pretend to." — " However, while 
we are getting on horseback," said Don Quixote, "you may 



AND HIS SQUIRE SANCHO PANZA. 1 79 

easily tell whether I am that Don Quixote you said you had 
vanquished." — " To this I answer," said he of the Looking- 
glasses, " that you are as like that very knight I vanquished, as 
one egg is like another ; but since you say you are persecuted 
by enchanters, I dare not be positive whether you are the same 
person or no." — " That is sufficient," answered Don Quixote, 
" to make me believe you are deceived ; however, to undeceive 
you quite, let us to horse, and in less time than you would have 
spent in lifting up your beaver, if Heaven, my mistress, and 
my arm, avail me, I will see your face, and you shall see I am 
not that vanquished Don Quixote you imagine." 

Then, cutting short the discourse, they mounted ; and Don 
Quixote wheeling Rozinante about, to take as much ground as 
was convenient for encountering his opponent, he of the Look- 
ing-glasses did the like. But Don Quixote was not gone 
twenty paces when he heard himself called to by the knight ; 
so, meeting each other half-way, he of the Looking-glasses said, 
" Take notice, Sir Knight, that the condition of our combat is, 
that the conquered, as I said before, shall remain at the dis- 
cretion of the conqueror." — " I know it," answered Don Quixote, 
" provided that what is commanded and imposed on the van- 
quished shall not exceed, or derogate from, the laws of 
chivalry." — " So it is to be understood," answered he of the 
Looking-glasses. At this juncture, Sancho, seeing his master 
set forth to take his career, ran after him, holding him by the 
back guard of Rozinante's saddle ; and when he thought it was 
time for him to face about, he said, " I beseech your worship, 
dear sir, that, before you turn about to engage, you will be so 
kind as to help me up into yon cork-tree, from whence I can 
see better, and more to my liking, than from the ground, the 
gallant encounter you are about to have with that knight." 
For in truth he did not above half like being left alone with 
that squire. 

While Don Quixote was busied in helping Sancho up into 
the cork-tree, he of the Looking-glasses took as large a circuit 
as he thought necessary, and believing that Don Quixote had 
done the same, without waiting for sound of trumpet, or any 



180 THE STORY OF DON QUIXOTE 

other signal, turned about his horse, who was not a whit more 
active, or more promising than Rozinante ; and at his best 
speed, which was a middling trot ? advanced to encounter his 
enemy ; but seeing him employed in helping up Sancho, he reined 
in his steed, and stopped in the midst of his career ; for which 
his horse was most thankful, being not able to stir any 
farther. 

Don Quixote, thinking his enemy was coming full speed 
against him, clapped spurs to Rozinante's lean flanks, and made 
him so bestir himself, that, as it is believed, this was the only 
time he was known to do something like running ; a trot being his 
best pace. With this unspeakable fury he soon came up where 
he of the Looking-glasses stood, striking his spurs up to the very 
rowels in his steed, without being able to make him stir a finger's 
length from the place where he made a full stand in his career. 
At this juncture, Don Quixote, finding his adversary embar- 
rassed with his horse, and encumbered with his lance (for 
either he did not know how, or had not time to set it in its rest), 
attacked him with such force, that he bore him to the ground 
over his horse's crupper — where such was his fall, that he lay 
motionless without any signs of life. Sancho no sooner saw 
him fallen, than he slid down from the cork-tree, and in all 
haste ran to his master ; who, alighting from Rozinante, was 
got upon him of the Looking-glasses, and unlacing his helmet, 
to see whether he was dead, or to give him air, if perchance he 

was alive ; when he saw but who can express what he saw ? 

He saw the very face, the very figure, the very aspect, the very 
picture of the bachelor Sampson Carrasco ; and as soon as he 
saw him, he cried out, " Come hither, Sancho, and behold what 
you must see but not believe ; make haste, son, and observe 
what wizards and enchanters can do." Sancho approached, 
and, seeing the bachelor's face, began to bless himself a thou- 
sand times over, saying to his master, " I am of opinion, sir, 
that, right or wrong, your worship should thrust the sword down 
the throat of him who seems so like the bachelor Sampson 
Carrasco ; perhaps in him you may kill some one of those 
enchanters your enemies."— "You do not say amiss," said Don 



AND HIS SQUIRE SANCHO PANZA. l8l 

Quixote; "for the fewer our enemies are the better;" and 
drawing his sword to put Sancho's advice in execution, the 
squire of the Looking-glasses drew near, crying aloud, " Have a 
care, Signor Don Quixote, what you do ; for he who lies at your 
feet is the bachelor Sampson Carrasco, your friend, and I am 
his squire." Sancho, seeing him without a false nose, which the 
man had worn for disguise, exclaimed, " Bless me ! Is not 
this Tom Cecial, my neighbour?" — "Indeed am I," answered 
the un-nosed squire ; " Tom Cecial I am, neighbour and friend 
to Sancho Panza ; and I will inform you presently what lies 
and wiles brought me hither. In the meantime beg and entreat 
your master not to touch, or kill the Knight of the Looking- 
glasses now at his feet ; for there is nothing more sure than 
that he is the daring and ill-advised bachelor, Sampson Car- 
rasco, our countryman." 

By this time he of the Looking-glasses was come to himself ; 
which Don Quixote perceiving, clapped the point of the naked 
sword to his throat, and said, " You are a dead man, knight, if 
you do not confess that the peerless Dulcinea del Toboso excels 
in beauty your Casildea de Vandalia ; and further, you must 
promise, if you escape from this conflict with life, to go to the 
city of Toboso, and present yourself before her on my behalf, 
that she may dispose of you as she shall think fit ; and, if she 
leaves you at your own disposal, then you shall return, and 
find me out, to tell me what passes between her and you ; these 
conditions being entirely conformable to our articles before our 
battle, and not exceeding the rules of knight-errantry." — " I con- 
fess," said the fallen knight, "that the Lady Dulcinea del To- 
boso's torn and dirty shoe is preferable to the ill-combed, 
though clean locks of Casildea; and I promise to go and return 
from her presence to yours, and give you an exact and parti- 
cular account of what you require of me." — " You must likewise 
confess and believe," added Don Quixote, "that the knight you 
vanquished was not, and could not, be Don Quixote de la 
Mancha, but somebody else like him ; as I do confess and be- 
lieve that you, though, in appearance, the bachelor Sampson 
Carrasco, are not he, but some other whom my enemies have 



1 82 THE STORY OF DON QUIXOTE. 

purposely transformed into his likeness, to restrain the impetu- 
osity of my choler, and make me use with moderation the glory 
of my conquest." — " I confess, judge of, and allow everything, 
as you believe, judge of, and allow," answered the disjointed 
knight ; " suffer me to rise, I beseech you, if the hurt of my 
fall will permit, which has left me sorely bruised." Don Quixote 
helped him to rise, as did his squire, Tom Cecial, from off whom 
Sancho could not remove his eyes, asking him things, the 
answers to which convinced him evidently of his being really 
that Tom Cecial he said he was„ But he was so prepossessed 
by what his master had said of the enchanters having changed 
the Knight of the Looking-glasses into the bachelor Sampson 
Carrasco, that he could not give credit to what he saw with his 
eyes. In short, master and man remained under this mistake ; 
and he of the Looking-glasses, with his squire, much out of 
humour and in ill plight, parted from Don Quixote and Sancho, 
to look for some convenient place, where he might plaister him- 
self and bind up his broken ribs ; the knight and his squire 
meanwhile continuing their journey to Saragossa. 

Now, in truth, it must be said that the bachelor had "gone 
out for wool, and came back shorn ;" for his setting-off as a 
knight-errant, and encountering Don Quixote, was a trick got 
up between himself and the priest (who never doubted that he 
would easily upset the old knight), to bring Don Quixote home, 
and make him stay there quietly, under delusion of his being 
bound by a knightly vow so to do. And in a very unamiable 
mood, nay, vowing vengeance on his adversary, he crawled, 
with his squire, to a neighbouring village, where he luckily got 
his bones set. 




CHAPTER XIII. 

Don Diego de Miranda — Adventure of the lions. 

ON QUIXOTE pursued his journey with extreme 
pleasure, satisfaction, and self-conceit ; imagining, 
upon account of his late victory, that he was the 
most valiant knight-errant the world could boast of 
in that age. He was wholly taken up with such thoughts, when 
Sancho said to him, " Is it not strange, sir, that I still have 
before my eyes the monstrous nose of my neighbour, Tom 
Cecial?" — "And do you really believe, Sancho," said Don 
Quixote, " that the Knight of the Looking-glasses was the 
bachelor Sampson Carrasco, and his squire Tom Cecial, your 
neighbour?" — "I know not what to say to that," answered 
Sancho ; " I only know, that what he told me of my house, 
wife, and children, could have been said by nobody else but 
himself ; and his face, when his nose was off, was Tom Cecial's 
own, as I have seen it very often in our village, next door to 
my house ; and the tone of the voice was also the very same." — 
" Come on," replied Don Quixote ; "let us reason a little upon 
this business. How can any one imagine, that the bachelor 
Sampson Carrasco should come knight-errant-wise, armed at 
all points to fight with me ? Was I ever his enemy ? Have I 
ever given him occasion to bear me a grudge ? Am I his rival? 
Or does he make profession of arms, as envying the fame I 
have acquired by them?" — "What then shall we say, sir," 
answered Sancho, " to that knight's being so very like Samp- 
son Carrasco, be he who he would, and his squire so like Tom 
Cecial?" — "The whole," answered Don Quixote, "is a trick of 



1 84 THE STORY OF DON QUIXOTE 

the wicked magicians, who persecute me ; who, foreseeing that 
I was to come off vanquisher in the conflict, contrived that the 
vanquished knight should have the face of my friend the 
bachelor, that the kindness I have for him might interpose 
between the edge of my sword and the rigour of my arm. and 
moderate the just indignation of my breast ; so that by this 
means he might escape with his life, who, by cunning devices 
and false appearances, sought to take away mine. For proof 
whereof, you already know, O Sancho, by infallible experience, 
how easy a thing it is for enchanters to change one face into 
another, making the fair foul and the foul fair ; since, not two 
days ago, you beheld with your own eyes the beauty and 
bravery of the peerless Dulcinea in their highest perfection, 
and at the same time I saw her under the plainness and de- 
formity of a rude country wench, smelling of garlic. And if 
the perverse enchanter durst make so wicked a transformation, 
no wonder if he has done the like as to Sampson Carrasco and 
your neighbour, in order to snatch the glory of the victory out 
of my hands. Nevertheless, I comfort myself : for, in short, be 
it under what shape soever, I have got the better of my enemy." — 
" Heaven knows the truth," answered Sancho ; who, well know- 
ing that the transformation of Dulcinea was all his own plot 
and device, was not satisfied with his master's chimerical 
notions, but would make no reply, lest he should let fall some 
word that might discover his cheat. 

While they were thus discoursing, there overtook them a man 
upon a very fine flea-bitten mare, clad in a surtout of fme green 
cloth, faced with murry-coloured velvet, and a hunter's cap of 
the same ; the mare's furniture was adapted for field sports, 
murry-coloured, and green. He had a Moorish scimitar hang- 
ing at a shoulder-belt of green and gold; and his buskins 
wrought like the belt. His spurs were not gilt, but varnished 
with green, so neat and polished, that they suited his clothes 
better than if they had been of pure gold. When the traveller 
came up to them, he saluted them courteously; th#n spurring his 
mare, and keeping a little off, was passing on. But Don Quix- 
ote called to him, " Courteous sir, if you are going our way, 



AND HIS SQUIRE SANCHO PANZA. T 35 

and are not in haste, I should take it for a favour if we might join 
company." The traveller at this checked his mare, wondering 
at the air and countenance of Don Quixote, who rode without his 
helmet, which Sancho carried, like a cloak-bag, at the pommel 
of his ass's saddle. And if the gentleman in green gazed much 
at Don Quixote, Don Quixote stared no less at him, taking him 
to be some person of consequence. He seemed to be about 
fifty years of age ; had but few gray hairs ; his face slender ; 
his aspect between merry and serious ; in a word, his mien 
and appearance spoke him to be a man of worth. What he 
in green thought of Don Quixote was, that he had never 
seen such a figure of a man before. He wondered at his 
lanky horse, at the tallness of his stature, the meagreness of 
his aspect, his armour, and his deportment ; the whole such 
an odd figure, as had not been seen in that country for many 
years past. 

Don Quixote took good notice how the traveller surveyed 
him ; and being the pink of courtesy, and fond of pleasing 
everybody, before the traveller could ask him any question, pre- 
vented him, saying, " This figure of mine, which your worship 
sees, being so new, and so much out of the way of what is gene- 
rally in fashion, I do not wonder if you are surprised at it ; but 
you will cease to be so when I tell you, as I do, that I am one 
of those knights whom people call seekers of adventures. I lefc 
my country, mortgaged my estate, quitted my ease and plea- 
sures, and threw myself into the arms of fortune, to carry me 
whither she pleased. I had a mind to revive the long-deceased 
chivalry; and, for some time past, stumbling here and tumbling 
there, falling headlong in one place and getting up again in 
another, I have accomplished a great part of my design — 
succouring widows, protecting damsels, aiding married women 
and orphans — the natural and proper office of knights-errant. 
Finally, in a word, know that I am Don Quixote de la Mancha, 
otherwise called ' the Knight of the Sorrowful Figure.' So that, 
worthy sir, neither this horse, this lance 3 this shield, nor this 
squire, nor all this armour together, nor the wanness of my 
visage, nor my meagre lankness, ought from henceforward to 



1 36 THE STORY OF DON QUIXOTE 

be matter of wonder to you, now that you know who I am, and 
the profession I follow." 

Here he was silent, and the one in green, after some pause, 
said, " Sir Knight, you judged right of my desire by my surprise ; 
but you have not removed the wonder raised in me at seeing 
you ; on the contrary, now that I know it, I am in greater admira- 
tion and surprise than before. What ! is it possible that there 
are knights-errant now in the world? I never could have 
thought there was anybody now upon earth who relieved 
widows, succoured damsels, aided married women, or protected 
orphans, nor should yet have believed it, had I not seen it in 
your worship with my own eyes. Blessed be Heaven for the 
same ! " 

He then, in answer to the knight's inquiry, said, "I, Sir 
Knight of the Sorrowful Figure, am a gentleman, native of a 
village where I trust we shall dine to-day. I am more than 
indifferently rich, and my name is Don Diego de Miranda. I 
spend my time with my wife, my children, and my friends. My 
diversions are hunting and fishing ; but I keep neither hawks nor 
greyhounds, only some decoy partridges, and a stout ferret. I 
have about six dozen of books, some Spanish, some Latin, some 
of history, and some of devotion ; those of chivalry have not yet 
come over my threshold. Sometimes I eat with my neighbours 
and friends, and sometimes I invite them ; my table is neat and 
clean, and tolerably furnished. I neither censure others myself, 
nor allow others to do it before me. I inquire not into other 
men's lives, nor am I sharp-sighted to pry into their actions. I 
hear service every day ; I share my substance with the poor, 
making no parade with my good works, nor harbouring in my 
breast hypocrisy and vain-glory, — those enemies which so slily 
get possession of the best-guarded hearts. I endeavour to make 
peace between those that are at variance ; and I always trust in 
the infinite mercy of God our Lord." 

Sancho was very attentive to this relation of the gentleman's 
life and conversation, which appeared to him to be good and 
holy; and, thinking that one of such a character must needs 
work miracles, he flung himself off his Dapple, and running 



AND HIS SQUIRE SANCHO PANZA. 1 87 

hastily,laid hold of Don Diego's right stirrup, whilst, with a devout 
heart and almost weeping eyes, he kissed his feet more than 
once ; which the gentleman perceiving, said, " What mean you, 
brother ? What kisses are these ? " — " Pray, let me kiss on," 
answered Sancho; "for your worship is the first saint on horse- 
back I ever saw in all the days of my life." — " I am no saint," 
answered the gentleman, "but a great sinner; you, brother, 
must needs be very good, as your simplicity proves." Sancho 
went off, and got again upon his ass, having forced a smile from 
the profound gravity of his master, and caused fresh admiration 
in Don Diego. 

So they rode on together, in pleasant conversation ; Don 
Quixote expressing himself so justly, that the gentleman in 
green began to waver in his opinion as to his being a madman. 
But in the midst of it, Sancho had gone out of the road to beg 
a little milk of some shepherds, who were hard by milking some 
ewes. And now the gentleman, highly satisfied with Don 
Quixote's ability and good sense, was renewing the discourse, 
when, on a sudden, the knight, lifting up his eyes, perceived a 
car with royal banners coming the same road they were going, 
and believing it to be some new adventure, called aloud to 
Sancho to come and give him his helmet. Sancho, hearing 
himself called, left the shepherds, and in all haste, pricking his 
Dapple, came where his master was, when there befell a most 
dreadful and stupendous adventure. 

Now when Don Quixote called out to Sancho to bring him 
his helmet, the squire was buying some curds of the shepherds ; 
and, being hurried by the violent haste his master was in, knew 
not what to do with them ; so, that he might not lose them, now 
they were paid for, he bethought him of clapping them into 
his master's helmet. With this excellent shift, back he came to 
learn the commands of his lord, who said to him, " Friend, give 
me the helmet ; for either I know little of adventures, or that 
which I descry yonder is one that does and will oblige me to 
have recourse to arms." He in the green riding-coat, hearing 
this, cast his eyes every way as far as he could, and discovered 
nothing but a car coming towards them with two or three small 



1 88 THE STORY OF DON QUIXOTE 

flags, by which he conjectured, that the said car was bringing some 
of the king's money, and so he told Don Quixote, who believed 
him not, always thinking and imagining that everything that 
befell him must be an adventure ; and thus he replied to the 
gentleman, " Preparation is half the battle, and nothing is lost 
by being upon one's guard. I know by experience that I have 
enemies both visible and invisible, and I know not when, or 
from what quarter, or at what time, or in what shape, they 
will encounter me." Then, turning about, he demanded his 
helmet of Sancho, who, not having time to take out the curds, 
was forced to give it him as it was. Don Quixote took it, and 
without minding what was in it, clapped it hastily upon his 
head ; and as the curds were squeezed and pressed, the whey 
began to run down his face and beard, at which the knight 
was so startled, that he said to Sancho, "What can this 
mean, Sancho? Methinks, my skull is softening, or my 
brains melting, or I sweat from head to foot ; and if I do really 
sweat, in truth it is not through fear, though I verily believe I 
am like to have a terrible adventure of this. If you have any- 
thing to wipe withal, give it me ; for the copious sweat quite 
blinds my eyes." Sancho said nothing, but gave him a cloth, 
and with it thanks to Heaven that his master had not found out 
the truth. Don Quixote wiped himself, and taking off his 
helmet, to see what it was that so over-cooled his head, saw 
some white lumps in it, w r hich he put to his nose, and, smelling 
them, said, "By the life of my Lady Dulcinea del Toboso, they 
are curds you have clapped in here, vile traitor, and incon- 
siderate squire ! " To which Sancho answered, with great 
composure, " If they are curds, give me them to eat ; but the 
hangman eat them for me, for it must be he that put them there. 
What ! I offer to foul your worship's helmet ? In faith, sir, I 
too have my enchanters, who persecute me as a creature and 
member of your worship, and, I warrant, have put that filthiness 
there, to stir your patience to wrath against me, and provoke 
you to bang my sides as you used to do. But truly this bout 
they have missed their aim ; for I trust to the candid judgment 
of my master, who will consider that I have neither curds nor 



AND HIS SQUIRE SANCHO PANZA. 1 89 

cream, nor anything like it ; and that, if I had, I should sooner 
have put them into my stomach than into your honour's 
helmet." — " It may be so," said Don Quixote. All this the 
gentleman saw, and saw with admiration, especially when Don 
Quixote, after having wiped his head, face, beard, and helmet, 
clapped it on, and fixing himself firm in his stirrups, then 
trying the easy drawing of his sword, and grasping his lance, 
said, " Now come what will ; for here I am prepared to en- 
counter Satan himself in person." 

By this time the car with the flags was come up, and nobody 
with it but the carter upon one of the mules, and a man sitting 
upon the fore-part. Don Quixote planted himself just before 
them, and said, " Whither go ye, brethren ? what car is this ? 
what have you in it too? and what banners are those?" To 
which the carter answered, " The car is mine, and in it are two 
fierce lions ; the flags belong to our liege the king, to show that 
what is in the car is his." — "And are the lions large?" de- 
manded Don Quixote. " So large," replied the man, " that 
larger never came from Africa into Spain. I am their keeper, 
and have had charge of several, but never of any so large as 
these ; at present they are hungry, not having eaten to-day ; and 
therefore, sir, get out of the way, for we must make haste to the 
place where we are to feed them." At which Don Quixote, 
smiling a little, said, " To me your lion- whelps ! your lion- 
whelps to me ! and at this time of day ! By this blessed sun, 
those who sent them hither, shall see whether I am a man to 
be scared by lions. Alight, honest friend ; and since you are 
their keeper, open the cages, and turn out those beasts ; for in 
the midst of this field will I make them know who Don Quixote 
de la Mancha is, in spite of the enchanters that sent them to 
me." — " Very well," said the gentleman to himself. " Our good 
knight has given us a specimen of what he is ; doubtless, the 
curds have softened his skull, and ripened his brains." Then 
Sancho came to him, and said, " For Heaven's sake, sir, order 
it so that my master Don Quixote may not encounter these 
lions, for if he does, they will tear us all to pieces." — " What, 
then, is your master really so mad," answered the gentleman, 



190 THE STORY OF DON QUIXOTE 

"that you fear and believe he will attack such fierce animals ?* 
— " He is not mad," answered Sancho, " but daring." — " I will 
make him desist," replied the gentleman ; and going to Don 
Quixote, who was hastening the keeper to open the cages, he 
said, " Sir, knights-errant should undertake adventures which 
promise good success, and not such as are quite desperate. 
These lions do not come to assail your worship, nor do they so 
much as dream of any such thing ; they are going to be pre- 
sented to His Majesty, and it is not proper to detain them or 
hinder their -journey." — "Sweet sir," answered Don Quixote, 
" go hence, and mind your decoy partridge and your stout ferret ; 
and leave every one to his own business. This is mine ; and I 
will know whether these gentlemen lions come against me or 
no." And, turning to the keeper, he said, " I vow, Don Rascal, 
if you do not instantly open the cages, with this lance I will pin 
you to the car." The carter, seeing the resolution of this 
armed apparition, said, " Good sir, for charity's sake, be pleased 
to let me take off my mules, and get with them out of danger, 
before the lions are let loose ; for should my cattle be killed, I 
am undone for all the days of my life, having no other livelihood 
but this car and these mules." — " O man of little faith ! " 
answered Don Quixote, " alight and unyoke, and do what you 
will ; for you shall quickly see you have laboured in vain, and 
might have saved yourself this trouble." 

The carter alighted, and unyoked in great haste ; and the 
keeper said aloud, " Bear witness, all here present, that, against 
my will, and by compulsion, I open the cages, and let loose the 
lions ; and that I enter my protest against this gentleman, that 
all the harm and mischief these beasts do shall stand and be 
placed to his account, with my salary and perquisites over and 
above. Pray, gentlemen, shift for yourselves before I open ; 
for, as to myself, I am sure they will do me no hurt." Again 
the gentleman pressed Don Quixote to desist from doing so 
mad a thing, it being to tempt God to undertake so extravagant 
an action. Don Quixote replied that he knew what he did. 
The gentleman rejoined, bidding him consider well of it, for 
he was certain he deceived himself. " Nay, sir," replied Don 



AND HIS SQUIRE SANCHO PANZA. Ipl 

Quixote, " if you do not care to be a spectator of what you think 
will prove a tragedy, spur your flea-bitten, and save yourself." 
Sancho, hearing this, besought him, with tears in his eyes, to 
desist from that enterprise, in comparison whereof that of the 
windmills, and that fearful one of the fulling-mill hammers — in 
short, all the exploits he had performed in the whole course of 
his life, were mere tarts and cheesecakes. " Consider, sir," 
said Sancho, " that here is no enchantment, nor anything like 
it, for I have seen, through the grates and chinks of the cage, 
the claw of a true lion ; and I guess by it that the lion to whom 
such a claw belongs, is bigger than a mountain." — " However it 
be," answered Don Quixote, " fear will make it appear to you 
bigger than half the world. Retire, Sancho, and leave me ; and 
if I die here, you know our old agreement : repair to Dulcinea ; 
I say no more." He in green would fain have opposed him, but 
found himself unequally matched in weapons and armour ; nor 
did he think it prudent to engage with a madman ; for such, by 
this time, he took Don Quixote to be in all points ; who hasten- 
ing the keeper, and reiterating his menaces, the gentleman took 
occasion to clap spurs to his mare, Sancho to Dapple, and the 
carter to his mules, all endeavouring to get as far from the car 
as they could before the lions were let loose. Sancho lamented 
the death of his master, verily believing it would now overtake 
him in the paws of the lions. He cursed his hard fortune, and 
the unlucky hour that it came into his head to serve him again ; 
but, for all his tears and lamentations, he ceased not punching 
his Dapple to get far enough from the car. The keeper, seeing 
that the fugitives were got a good way off, repeated his argu- 
ments and entreaties to Don Quixote, who answered that he 
heard him, and that he should trouble himself with no more 
arguments or entreaties, for all would signify nothing, and that 
he must make haste. 

Whilst the keeper delayed opening the first grate, Don 
Quixote considered with himself whether it would be best to 
fight on foot or on horseback. At last he determined to fight 
on foot, lest Rozinante should be terrified at sight of the lions. 
Thereupon he leaped from his horse, flung aside his lance, 



192 THE STORY OF DON QUIXOTE 

braced on his shield, and drew his sword ; and marching 
slowly, with marvellous intrepidity, and an undaunted heart, 
planted himself before the car, devoutly commending himself, 
first to Heaven, then to his mistress Dulcinea. 

The keeper, seeing Don Quixote fixed in his posture, and 
that he could not avoid letting loose the lion, on pain of falling 
under the displeasure of the angry and daring knight, set wide 
open the door of the first cage, where it lay, appearing to be of 
an extraordinary bigness, and of a hideous and frightful aspect. 
The first thing the lion did was, to turn himself round in the 
cage, reach out a paw, and stretch himself at full length. Then 
he gaped and yawned very leisurely ; then licked the dust off 
his eyes, and washed his face, with some half a yard of tongue. 
This done, he thrust his head out of the cage, and stared round 
on all sides with eyes like live coals — a sight and aspect 
enough to have struck terror into temerity itself. Don Quixote 
only observed him with attention, wishing he would leap out from 
the car, and grapple with him, that he might tear him in pieces. 
But the generous beast, more civil than arrogant, taking no 
notice of his vapouring and bravadoes, after having stared 
about him, as has been said, turned his back and showed his 
tail to Don Quixote ; after which, with great calmness, he laid 
himself down again in the cage. Don Quixote perceiving this, 
ordered the keeper to give him some blows, and provoke him 
to come forth. " That I will not do," answered the keeper ; 
" for, should I provoke him, I myself shall be the first he will 
tear in pieces. Be satisfied, Signor Cavalier, with what is done, 
and do not tempt fortune a second time. The lion has the 
door open, and it is in his choice to come forth or not ; and 
since he has not yet come out, he will not come out all this day. 
The greatness of your worship's courage is already sufficiently 
shown. No brave combatant, as I take it, is obliged to do more 
than to challenge his foe and expect him in the field ; and if the 
antagonist does not meet him, the infamy lies at his door, and 
the expectant gains the crown of conquest." — " That is true," 
answered Don Quixote. u Shut the door, friend, and give me a 
certificate, in the best form you can, of what you have seen me 



AND HIS SQUIRE SANCHO PANZA. 193 

do here. It is fit it should be known, how you opened to the 
lion ; I waited for him ; he came not out ; I waited for him 
again ; again he came not out ; and again he laid him down. 
I am bound to no more — enchantments, avaunt. So Heaven 
prosper right and justice, and true chivalry. Shut the door, 
while I make a signal to the fugitive and absent, that they may 
have an account of this exploit from your mouth." 

The keeper did so, and Don Quixote, clapping on the point 
of his lance the linen cloth wherewith he had wiped the torrent 
of the curds from off his face, began to call out to the rest, who 
still fled, turning about their heads at every step, all in a troop, 
and the gentleman at the head of them. But Sancho, chancing 
to espy the signal of the white cloth, said, " May I be hanged if 
my master has not vanquished the wild beasts, since he calls to 
us." They all halted, and knew that it was Don Quixote who 
made the sign ; so, abating some part of their fear, they drew 
nearer by degrees, till they came where they could distinctly hear 
him calling to them. When they came back to the car, Don 
Quixote said to the carter, " Put to your mules again, brother, 
and continue your journey ; and, Sancho, give two gold crowns 
to him and the keeper, to make them amends for my having 
detained them." — " That I will, with all my heart," answered 
Sancho ; " but what is become of the lions ? are they dead or 
alive?" Then the keeper, very minutely, and with proper 
pauses, related the success of the conflict, exaggerating the 
valour of Don Quixote, at sight of whom the abashed lion 
would not, or durst not, stir out of the cage, though he had 
held open the door a good while ; and upon his representing to 
the knight, that it was tempting God to provoke the lion, and 
to make him come out by force, as he would have had him do, 
whether he would or no, and wholly against his will, he had 
suffered the cage door to be shut. " What think you of this, 
Sancho ? " asked Don Quixote ; " can any enchantments 
prevail against true courage ? With ease may the enchanters 
deprive me of good fortune ; but of courage and resolution 
they never can." Sancho gave the gold crowns ; the carter 
put to ; the keeper kissed Don Quixote's hands for the favour 

N 



194 THE STORY OF DON QUIXOTE 

received, and promised him to relate this valorous exploit to 
the king himself when he came to court. " If, perchance, His 
Majesty," said Don Quixote, " should inquire who performed it, 
tell him ' the Knight of the Lions ; ' for, from henceforward, I 
resolve that the title I have hitherto borne, of ' the Knight of 
theSorrowful Figure,' shall be changed and altered to this ; 
and herein I follow the ancient practice of knights-errant, who 
changed their names when they had a mind or whenever it 
served their turn." 

The car went on its way, and Don Quixote, Sancho, and he 
in the green surtout, pursued their journey. In all this time, 
Don Diego de Miranda had not spoken a word, being all 
attention to observe and remark the actions and words of 
Don Quixote, taking him to be a sensible madman, and a 
madman bordering upon good sense ; because what he spoke 
was coherent, elegant, and well said, and what he did was 
extravagant, rash, and foolish. " For," said he to himself, 
" what greater madness can there be than to clap on a helmet 
full of curds, and persuade one's-self that enchanters have 
melted one's skull ? and what greater rashness and extrava- 
gance than to resolve to fight with lions ?" 

Don Quixote interrupted him by saying, " Doubtless, signer, 
in your opinion I must needs pass for an extravagant madman ; 
and no wonder it should be so, for my actions indicate no less. 
But it being my lot to be one of the number of knights-errant, I 
cannot decline undertaking whatever I imagine to come within 
the verge of my profession ; and, therefore, encountering these 
lions, as I just now did, belonged to me directly, though I 
knew it to be most extravagant rashness. I very well know 
that fortitude is a virtue placed between the two vicious 
extremes of cowardice and rashness ; but it is better the 
valiant should rise to the high pitch of temerity, than sink 
to the low point of cowardice. For, as it is easier for the 
prodigal to become liberal, than for the covetous, so it is much 
easier for the rash to hit upon being truly valiant, than for 
the coward to rise to true valour ; and, as to undertaking 
adventures, believe me, Signor Don Diego, it is better to lose 



AND HIS SQUIRE SANCHO PANZA. 195 

the game by a card too much than one too little ; for it sounds 
better in the ears of those that hear it, such a knight is rash 
and daring, than such a knight is timorous and cowardly." 

" I say, Signor Don Quixote," answered Don Diego, " that all 
you have said and done is levelled by the line of right reason ; 
and I think, if the laws and ordinances of knight-errantry should 
be lost, they might be found in your worship's breast, as in their 
proper depository. But let us make haste, for it grows late ; and 
let us get to my village and house, where you may repose and 
refresh yourself after your late toil, which, if not of the body, has 
been a labour of the mind, which often affects the body too." — 
" I accept of the offer as a great favour and kindness, Signor 
Don Diego," answered Don Quixote ; and spurring on a little 
more than they had hitherto done, it was about two in the after- 
noon when they arrived at the village, and the house of Don 
Diego, whom Don Quixote called " The Knight of the Green 
Riding-coat." The house was spacious, after the country 
fashion, having the arms of the family carved in rough stone 
over the great gates, the buttery in the courtyard, the cellar 
under the porch, and several earthen wine-jars placed round 
about it ; which, being of the ware of Toboso, renewed the 
memory of his enchanted Dulcinea ; and, without considering 
what he said, or before whom, he sighed, and cried, " O sweet 
pledges, found now to my sorrow ; sweet and joyous, when 
Heaven would have it so ! O ye Tobosian jars, that have 
brought back to my remembrance the sweet pledge of my 
greatest bitterness ! " This was overheard by Don Diego's 
son, who, with his mother, was come out to receive him ; and 
both mother and son were in admiration at the strange figure 
of Don Quixote, who, alighting from Rozinante, very courteously 
desired leave to kiss the lady's hands ; while Don Diego said, 
" Receive, madam, with your accustomed civility, Signor Don 
Quixote de la Mancha here present, a knight-errant, and the 
most valiant and most ingenious person in the world." The 
lady, whose name was Donna Christina, received him with 
much kindness and civility ; and presently he was led into 
a hall, where Sancho unarmed him, he remaining in his wide 



196 THE STORY OF DON QUIXOTE 

Walloon breeches and a chamois doublet, all besmeared with the 
rust of his armour ; his band being of the college-cut, without 
starch and without iace; his buskins date-coloured, and his shoes 
waxed. He girt on his trusty sword, which hung at a belt made 
of sea-wolfs skin, and over these he had a long cloak of good 
gray cloth. But first of all, with five or six kettles of water he 
washed his head and face ; and still the water continued of a 
whey-colour, thanks to Sancho's gluttony, and the purchase of 
the nasty curds, that had made his master so white and clean. 
With the aforesaid accoutrements, and with a polished air and 
deportment, Don Quixote walked into another hall, whence they 
were called to supper, such a one as Don Diego had told them 
upon the road he used to give to those he invited — neat, plentiful, 
and savoury. But that which pleased Don Quixote above all, 
was the marvellous silence throughout the whole house, as if it 
had been a convent of Carthusians. 

The cloth being taken away, grace said, and their hands 
washed, they had much pleasant discourse together until it was 
time to retire for the night. 

Four days was Don Quixote nobly regaled in Don Diego's 
house ; at the end whereof he begged leave to be gone, telling his 
host he thanked him for the favour and kind entertainment he 
had received in his family ; but, because it did not look well for 
knights-errant to give themselves up to idleness and indulgence 
too long, he would go, in compliance with the duty of his 
function, in quest of adventures, wherewith he was informed 
those parts abounded ; designing to employ the time there- 
abouts till the day of the jousts at Saragossa, at which he 
resolved to be present. In the first place, however, he in- 
tended to visit the cave of Montesinos, of which people related 
so many and such wonderful things all over that country ; at 
the same time inquiring into the source and true springs of the 
seven lakes, commonly called the lakes of Ruydera. Don 
Diego applauded his honourable resolution, desiring him to 
furnish himself with whatever he pleased of his, for he was 
heartily welcome to it — his worthy person and his noble pro- 
fession obliging him to make him this offer. 



AND HIS SQUIRE SANCHO PANZA. 197 

At length the day of his departure came, as joyous to Don 
Quixote, as sad and unhappy for Sancho Panza, who liked the 
plenty of Don Diego's house wondrous well, and was loth to 
return to the hunger of the forests and wildernesses, and to the 
penury of his ill- provided wallets. However, he filled and 
stuffed them with what he thought most necessary. Offers of 
service and civilities were repeated between Don Diego and 
his guest ; and, with the good leave of the lady of the castle, 
they departed — Don Quixote upon Rozinante, and Sancho 
upon Dapple. 



CHAPTER XIV. 

Camachds wedding— Cave of Montesinos— Adventure with the 
puppets — Sanchds peace-making. 



I 



S our knight and squire jogged along, they overtook 
some travellers, who said they were going to a great 
wedding in the neighbourhood, and invited Don 
Quixote to accompany them thither ; where would 
be plenty of fine entertainment both of meat and drink, and 
various pastimes, as Camacho, the bridegroom, was very rich. 
So he joined the party, refusing, on his arrival, to go into the 
town with them, as it was the custom of knights-errant to sleep 
in the fields and forests, rather than under roofs, however 
stately. His lodging was therefore taken up outside, to the 
sore disappointment of Sancho, who had not forgotten the brave 
doings of Don Diego's household. 

Don Quixote was up by daybreak next morning ; but Sancho 
slept so heavily that he had to be stirred up with the butt-end of 
his master's lance to rouse him. At last he awaked, drowsy 
and yawning ; and, turning his face on all sides, said, " From 
yonder shady bower, if I mistake not, there comes a steam and 
smell, rather of broiled rashers of bacon than of thyme or 
rushes. By my faith, weddings that begin thus savourily must 
needs be liberal and abundant." 

" Have done, glutton," said Don Quixote, "and let us go and 
see this wedding." Sancho did as his master commanded him ; 
and, saddling Rozinante and pannelling Dapple, they both 
mounted, and, marching softly, entered the meadow where the 
entertainment was to take place. The first thing that presented 



THE STORY OF DON QUIXOTE. 199 

itself to Sancho's sight was a whole bullock spitted upon a 
large elm. The fire it was roasted by was composed of a good- 
sized mountain of wood, and round it were placed six pots, each 
containing a whole shamble of meat ; entire sheep being sunk 
and swallowed up in them, as if they were only so many 
pigeons. The hares ready flayed, and the fowls ready plucked, 
that hung about upon the branches, in order to be buried in the 
caldrons, were without number. Infinite was the wild fowl 
and venison hanging about the trees, that the air might cool 
them. Sancho counted above threescore skins, each of above 
twenty-four quarts, and all, as appeared afterwards, full of 
generous wines. There were also piles of the whitest bread, 
like so many heaps of wheat in a threshing-floor. Cheeses, 
ranged like bricks, formed a kind of wall. Two caldrons of 
oil, larger than a dyer's vat, stood ready for frying all sorts of 
batter-ware ; and, with a couple of stout peels, they took them 
out when fried, and dipped them in another kettle of prepared 
honey, that stood by. The men and women cooks were above 
fifty, all clean, all diligent, and all in good humour. Inside the 
bullock were a dozen sucking pigs, sewed up in it to make it sav- 
oury and tender. The spices of various kinds seemed to have 
been bought, not by the pound, but by the hundred, and stood 
free for everybody in a great chest. In short, the preparation 
for the wedding was all rustic, but in such plenty, that it was 
sufficient to have feasted an army. 

Sancho beheld all, considered all, and was in love with every- 
thing. The first that captivated and subdued his inclinations 
were the flesh-pots, out of which he would have been glad to 
have filled a moderate pipkin. Then the wine-skins drew his 
affections ; and, lastly, the products of the frying-pans, if such 
pompous caldrons may be so called. And, not being able to 
forbear any longer, he went up to one of the busy cooks, from 
whom, with courteous and hungry words, he desired leave to 
sop a luncheon of bread in one of the pots. To which the cook 
answered, " This is none of those days over whieh hunger pre- 
sides, thanks to rich Camacho. Alight, and see if you can find 
a ladle anywhere, and skim out a fowl or two ; and much good 



200 THE STORY OF DON QUIXOTE ' 

may they do you." — " I see none," answered Sancho. " Stay,' 7 
said the cook. " Bless us, what a nice and good-for-nothing 
fellow must you be ! " So saying, he laid hold of a kettle, and 
sousing it into one of the pots fished out three pullets and a 
couple of geese, and said to Sancho, " Eat, friend, and make a 
breakfast of this scum, to stay your stomach till dinner-time." — 
" I have nothing to put it in," answered Sancho. " Then take 
ladle and all," said the cook ; " for the riches and felicity of 
Camacho supply everything." 

This was very satisfactory ; but poor Sancho was doomed to 
a miserable disappointment, seeing that, just as the priest was 
about to marry Camacho the rich, to his bride, by a cleverly- 
devised trick the lady was united instead to Basilius, a poor suitor 
of hers, whom, in truth, she liked better. The young couple took 
Don Quixote home with them, to the unutterable disgust of his 
squire, who had now nothing but what was left of the skim- 
mings of the kettle to console him for the boundless provender 
left behind. They remained here three days, and then the 
knight determined to visit the famous magic cave of Montesinos, 
which he was told was a few miles off. He set out accordingly, 
taking with him about a couple of hundred yards of cord, that 
he might be lowered down into it, and explore its very depths. 
When they arrived at the cave, the guide, Sancho, and Don Quix- 
ote alighted ; then the two former bound the knight very fast with 
the cord, and while they were binding him, Sancho said, "Have 
a care, dear sir, what you do ; do not bury yourself alive, or 
hang yourself dangling, like a flask of wine let down to cool in 
a well ; for it is no business of your worship's, nor does it be- 
long to you, to be the scrutiniser of this hole, which must needs 
be worse than any dungeon." — "Tie on, and talk not, friend 
Sancho," answered Don Quixote. The tying of Don Quixote 
(not over his armour, but his doublet) being finished, he said, 
" We have been very careless in neglecting to provide a little 
bell, to be tied to me with this rope ; by the tinkling of which 
you might hear me still descending and know that I was alive ; 
but since that is now impossible, may Heaven be my guide.' 
And immediately he kneeled down, and in a low voice put up a 



AND HIS SQUIRE SANCHO PANZA. 201 

prayer to Heaven for assistance and good success in this seem- 
ingly perilous and strange adventure. Then he drew near to the 
brink, and seeing he could not be let down, or get at the en- 
trance of the cave, but by mere force, and cutting his way 
through, seizing his sword, he began to lay about him, and hew 
down the brambles and bushes at the mouth of the cave ; at 
which noise and rustling an infinite number of huge ravens 
and daws flew out so thick and so fast, that they beat him to 
the ground ; and had he been as superstitious as he was mad, 
he had taken it for an ill omen, and forborne shutting himself 
up in such a place. At length he got upon his legs, and seeing 
no more ravens flying out, or other night-birds, such as bats 
(some of which likewise flew out among the ravens), the guide 
and Sancho, giving him rope, let him down to the bottom of 
the fearful cavern ; at his going in, Sancho giving him his bless- 
ing, and saying, " Heaven speed thee, thou flower, and cream, 
and skimming of knights-errant ! There thou goest, Hector of 
the world, heart of steel, and arms of brass. Once more 
Heaven guide thee, and send thee back safe and sound to the 
light of this world." 

Don Quixote went down, calling for more and more rope, 
which they gave him by little and little ; and when the voice, 
by the windings of the cave, could be heard no longer, and the 
cordage was all let down, they thought they had best pull him 
up again, since they could give him no more rope. However, 
they delayed about half an hour, and then began to gather up 
the rope, which they did very easily, and without any weight at 
all ; from whence they conjectured that Don Quixote remained 
in the cave ; whereupon Sancho, believing as much, wept 
bitterly, drawing up in a great hurry to know the truth ; but, 
coming to a little above eighty fathoms, they felt a weight, 
at which they rejoiced exceedingly. In short, at about the 
tenth fathom, they discerned Don Quixote very distinctly ; to 
whom Sancho called out, saying, " Welcome back to us, dear 
sir ; for we began to think you had stayed there to sleep." But 
the knight answered not a word, and, pulling him quite out, 
they perceived his eyes were shut, as if he were asleep. They 



202 THE STORY OF DON QUIXOTE 

laid him along on the ground and untied him : yet still he did 
not awake. But they so turned, and jogged, and re-turned, and 
shook him, that, after a good while, he came to himself, stretch- 
ing and yawning, just as if he had awaked out of a heavy and 
deep sleep ; and gazing from side to side, as if he was amazed, 
he said, " Heaven forgive you, friends, for having brought me 
from the most pleasing and charming life and sight that ever 
mortal saw or lived." He then desired they would give him 
something to eat, for he was very hungry ; so they spread the 
guide's carpet upon the green grass, addressed themselves to 
the pantry of his wallets, and being all three seated in loving 
and social wise, dined and supped all in one. The carpet being 
removed, Don Quixote de la Mancha said, " Let no one rise ; 
and, sons, be attentive to me." 

And thereupon, in answer to their inquiries of what he had 
seen down below, he poured out to them the most wonderful 
rigmarole, not only of what he had seen, but of what he had 
said and done in this enchanted cave ; where, according to his 
own account, he had remained three days. "And has your 
worship, good sir, eaten anything in all this time?" asked the 
guide. " I have not broken my fast with one mouthful," an- 
swered Don Quixote, " nor have I been hungry, or so much as 
thought of it all the while." — " Do the enchanted eat ?" said the 
guide. " They do not," answered Don Quixote. "And, sir, do 
the enchanted sleep?" inquired Sancho. "No, truly," an- 
swered Don Quixote ; " at least, in the three days that I have 
been amongst them, not one of them has closed an eye, nor I 
either."— " Here," said Sancho, "the proverb hits right : 'Tell 
me your company, and I will tell you what you are.' If your 
worship keeps company with those who fast and watch, what 
wonder is it that you neither eat nor sleep when you are with 
them ? But pardon me, good master of mine, if I tell your 
worship, that of all you have been saying, I '11 be whipped if I 
believe one word." — "How so?" said the guide : " Signor Don 
Quixote then must have lied ; who, even if he had a mind to it, 
has not had time to imagine and compose such a heap of lies." — 
" I do not believe my master lies," answered Sancho. " If not, 



AND HIS SQUIRE SANCHO PANZA. 203 

what do you believe ? " said his master. " I believe," answered 
Sancho, "that the same Merlin, or those necromancers, who 
enchanted all the crew your worship says you saw and con- 
versed with there below, have crammed into your imagination 
or memory all this stuff you have already told us." — " Such a 
thing might be, Sancho," replied Don Quixote ; " but it is not 
so, for what I have related I saw with my own eyes ; but what 
will you say when I tell you that I there saw my peerless Dul- 
cinea del Toboso, whom I knew by the very same clothes she 
wore when you showed her to me ? I spoke to her ; but she 
turned her back upon me, and fled away with so much speed, 
that an arrow could not have overtaken her. But what gave 
me the most pain of anything I saw was, that one of the two 
companions of the unfortunate Dulcinea, with tears in her eyes, 
and in a low and troubled voice, said to me, ' My Lady Dul- 
cinea del Toboso kisses your worship's hands ; and, being in 
great necessity, earnestly begs your worship would be pleased to 
lend her, upon this new dimity petticoat I have brought here, 
three shillings, or what you have about you, which she promises 
to return very shortly.' This message threw me into great 
perturbation. ' I will take no pawn,' answered I, 'nor can I 
send her what she desires, for I have but two shillings ; ' which 
I sent her, being those you gave me the other day, Sancho, to 
bestow in alms on the poor I should meet with upon the road ; 
and I said to the damsel, ' Sweetheart, tell your lady, that I am 
grieved to my soul at her distresses, and wish I were a Crcesus, 
to remedy them. Also tell her, I will take no rest till she be 
disenchanted.' — ' All this and more your worship owes my lady,' 
answered the damsel ; and, taking the money, instead of mak- 
ing me a curtsey, she cut a caper full two yards high in the 
air." 

" O Moses ! " cried Sancho aloud, at this juncture ; and there 
was no need to say anything more. 

Having ended his discourse, Don Quixote gave orders for 
their departure, intending to spend the night at an inn to which 
he had been directed ; and as, when they reached it, he took it 
for an inn, not a castle, his squire greatly rejoiced. 



204 THE STORY OF DON QUIXOTE 

Whilst they were sitting on a stone bench outside the door 
here, there came up a man, clad in chamois leather from head 
to foot, and having his left eye, and nearly half the cheek, 
covered with a black patch. "Ho, ho!" said the landlord, 
" here comes Master Peter, with his divining ape, and his 
puppet-show ; we shall have a brave night of it." Master 
Peter, who was, in truth, that old thief Gines de Passamonte 
disguised, thus welcomed, soon set up his show ; which, being 
stuck round with little wax candles, made a brilliant appear- 
ance. He himself crept behind it, to manage the puppets, 
setting his boy to explain their movements, and what was going 
on. 

" The show, gentlemen," said this youth, " is of how Don 
Gayferos freed his wife, Melisendra, who was prisoner of the 
Moors, in the city of Saragossa. That personage, with the 
crown on his head, is the great Emperor Charlemagne, sup- 
posed to be the lady's father. Observe how, like a good parent, 
he chafes and frets with his son-in-law. She who appears at a 
balcony of that tower is the beautiful Melisendra herself. Do 
you not mark how the hideous Moor, who comes stealing along, 
gives her a smacking kiss ? whereupon she spits, wipes her 
mouth with her sleeve, and tears her hair for vexation. The 
figure you see on horseback is Don Gayferos. Note how his 
spouse leans over the balcony to talk with him, believing him a 
stranger ; but, on recognising her husband, lets herself down to 
mount behind him. Alas, poor lady ! the border of her under- 
petticoat has caught hold on one of the iron rails of the balcony, 
and there she hangs dangling in the air, without being able to 
reach the ground. But see how merciful Heaven sends relief 
in the greatest distresses, for now comes Don Gayferos, who, 
without regarding whether the rich petticoat be torn or not, lays 
hold of her, and brings her to the ground by main force ; then, 
at a spring, sets her behind him on his horse, astride like a man, 
bidding her hold very fast, and clasp her arms about his 
'•$ shoulders, till they cross and meet over his breast, that she may 
not fall, because the Lady Melisendra was not used to that way 
of riding. See how the horse, by his neighings, shows he is 



AND HIS SQUIRE SANCHO PANZA. 20$ 

pleased with the burden of his valiant master and his fair mis- 
tress. And see how they turn their backs, and go out of the 
city, and how merrily and joyfully they take their way to Paris. 
But next, mark what an array of cavalry sallies out of the city, 
in pursuit of the twain, whose flight has been observed ; and 
hear how the kettle-drums and cymbals clatter ! I fear they will 
overtake them, and bring them back tied to their own horses 
tail, which would be a lamentable spectacle." 

Don Quixote, seeing such a number of Moors, and hearing 
such a din, thought proper to succour those that fled ; and, 
rising up, said, in a loud voice, "I will never consent, while I 
live, that in my presence such an outrage as this be offered to 
so famous a knight as Don Gayferos. Hold, base-born rabble, 
follow not, nor pursue after him ; for, if you do, have at you." 
So said, so done : he unsheathed his sword, and at one spring, 
planting himself close to the show, with a violent and unheard- 
of fury, began to rain hacks and slashes upon the Moorish 
puppets, overthrowing some and beheading others, laming 
this and demolishing that ; and among a great many other 
strokes, he fetched one with such force, that if Master Peter had 
not ducked, and squatted down, he had chopped off his head 
with as much ease as if it had been made of sugar-paste. 
Master Peter cried out, saying, "Hold, Signor Don Quixote, 
hold ! and consider that these figures you throw down, maim, 
and destroy, are not real Moors, but only puppets made of 
pasteboard. Consider, sinner that I am, that you are undoing 
me, and destroying my whole living." For all that, Den 
Quixote still laid about him, showering down doubling and 
redoubling fore-strokes and back-strokes, like hail. In short, in 
less than no time, he demolished the whole machine, hacking 
to pieces all the tackling and figures — King Marsilio being sorely 
wounded, and the head and crown of the Emperor Charlemagne 
cloven in two. The whole audience was in a consternation : the 
ape flew to the top of the house ; the landlord was frighted ; the 
girls screamed ; and even Sancho himself trembled mightily, for, 
as he averred, after the storm was over, he had never seen his 
master in so outrageous a passion. 



206 THE STORY OF DON QUIXOTE 

The general demolition of the machinery thus achieved, Don 
Quixote began to be a little calm, and said, " I wish I had here 
before me, at this instant, all those who are not, and will not, be 
convinced of how much benefit knights-errant are to the world ; 
for, had I not been present, what would have become of good 
Don Gayferos and the fair Melisendra? I warrant you, these 
dogs would have overtaken them by this time, and have offered 
them some indignity. When all is done, long live knight- 
errantry above all things living in the world ! " — " Aye, l^f it 
live, and let me die," said Master Peter, with a fainting voice. 
" It is not half an hour ago, or scarce half a minute, since I 
was master of kings and emperors, my stalls full of horses, and 
my trunks and sacks full of fine things, and now I am desolate 
and dejected, poor and a beggar ; and what grieves me most of 
all, without my ape, who will be a very plague to catch ; and all 
through the inconsiderate fury of this sir knight, who is said to 
protect orphans, redress wrongs, and do other charitable deeds. 
But in me alone, praised be the highest heavens for it, his gene- 
rous intention has failed ! In fine, it could only be the Knight 
of the Sorrowful Figure who was destined thus to disfigure me 
and mine." 

Sancho Panza was moved to compassion by what Master 
Peter had spoken, and therefore said to him, "Weep not, 
Master Peter, nor take on so, for you break my heart ; and I 
assure you my master Don Quixote is so scrupulous a Christian, 
that if he comes to reflect that he has done you wrong, he will 
certainly make you amends with interest." — " If Signor Don 
Quixote," replied Master Peter, "would but repay me part of the 
damage he has done me, I should be satisfied, and his worship 
would discharge his conscience ; for nobody can be saved who 
withholds another's property against his will, and does not make 
restitution." — " True," said Don Quixote ; "but as yet I do not 
know that I have anything of yours, Master Peter." — "How?" 
answered Master Peter ; " what but the invincible force of your 
powerful arm scattered and annihilated these relics? Whose 
were their bodies but mine ? and how did I maintain myself but 
by them?" — "Now am I entirely convinced," said Don Quixote, 



AND HIS SQUIRE SANCHO PANZA. 207 

at this juncture, "of what I have often believed before, that 
those enchanters who persecute me are perpetually setting 
shapes before me as they really are, and presently putting the 
change upon me, and transforming them into whatever they 
please. I protest to you, gentlemen, that I took Melisendra to 
be Melisendra ; Don Gayferos, Don Gayferos j Marsilio, Mar- 
silio ; and Charlemagne, Charlemagne. This it was that in- 
flamed my choler ; so that, in compliance with the duty of my 
profession as a knight-errant, I had a mind to assist and succour 
those who fled ; with this good intention I did what you just 
now saw. If things have fallen out the reverse, it is no fault of 
mine, but of those my wicked persecutors ; yet, notwithstanding 
this mistake of mine, and though it did not proceed from 
malice, will I condemn myself in costs. See, Master Peter, 
what you must have for the damaged figures, and I will pay it 
you down in current and lawful money of Castile." Master 
Peter made him a low bow, saying, " I expected no less from 
the valorous Don Quixote de la Mancha ; and let master inn- 
keeper, and the great Sancho, be umpires between your worship 
and me of what the demolished figures are worth." 

The innkeeper and Sancho said they would; and then Master 
Peter, taking up Marsilio, King of Saragossa, without a head, 
said, "You see how impossible it is to restore this king to his 
pristine state ; and therefore I think, with submission to better 
judgments, you must award me for his death and destruction 
half-a-crown." — " Proceed," said Don Quixote. " Then, for 
this that is cleft from top to bottom," continued Master Peter, 
taking up the Emperor Charlemagne, " I think two and seven- 
pence halfpenny ' little enough to ask." — "Not very little," 
objected Sancho. " Not very much," replied the innkeeper ; 
"but split the difference." — "Give him the whole," said Don 
Quixote ; " and make an end, Master Peter, for it grows towards 
supper-time, and I have some symptoms of hunger upon me." — 
"For this figure," continued Master Peter, "which wants a 
nose and an eye, and is the fair Melisendra, I must have, and 
can abate nothing of, one shilling and threepence." — " Nay," 
said Don Quixote, "that cannot be ; Melisendra must by this 



208 THE STORY OF DON QUIXOTE 

time be with her husband in France. Let every one take care 
of himself, Master Peter ; give us plain dealing, and proceed." 
Master Peter had no mind the knight should escape him so, 
and therefore said to him, " Now I think on it, this is not Meli- 
sendra, but one of her waiting-maids ; and so, with one and 
threepence I shall be well contented." Thus he went on, setting 
a price upon several broken figures, which the arbitrators after- 
wards moderated to the satisfaction of both parties. The whole 
amounted to twenty shillings and fourpence halfpenny ; and 
over and above all this (which Sancho immediately disbursed), 
Master Peter demanded a shilling for the trouble he should 
have in catching his ape. " Give him it, Sancho," said Don 
Quixote ; " I would give an hundred to any one that could tell 
me for certain that Donna Melisendra and Signor Don Gay- 
feros are at this time in France, and among their friends." 

In conclusion, the bustle of the puppet-show was quite over, 
and they all supped together in peace and good fellowship at the 
expense of Don Quixote, who was liberal to the last degree ; so 
that the innkeeper was equally in admiration at his madness 
and liberality. In short, Sancho, by order of his master, paid 
him very well ; and about eight in the morning, bidding him 
farewell, they left the inn, and went their way, travelling for 
a couple of days quietly enough. But on the third morning, 
hearing a great noise of drums and trumpets, Don Quixote must 
needs go and see what was the matter. It proved to be the men 
of a town hard by, who were accustomed on some old, ridiculous 
quarrel to turn out and fight their neighbours of another town. 
The knight did not at all approve this kind of thing ; ,and as 
his profession bound him to be peace-maker; where peace was 
possible, just as it bound him to have recourse to arms where 
those were requisite, he at once approached the array ; and 
raising his visor, treated them to an excellent harangue on the 
folly and impropriety of their conduct. But before he got to the 
end of it, Sancho, who must needs be meddling, struck in, and 
spoiled all; for one of the throng, fancying offence in what he said 
just knocked him down. Don Quixote immediately levelled his 
lance in defence of his squire ; a movement that only drew upon 



AND HIS SQUIRE SANCHO PANZA. 209 

him a shower of stones, whilst cross-bows and guns, without 
number, were pointed at him ; so, turning Rozinante about, he 
galloped off as fast as he could, each moment expecting a bullet, 
or cross-bow bolt after him. The men, seeing him fly, did no 
further mischief; but picked up Sancho, and laying him athwart 
his ass like a bundle, the sensible beast followed his old friend 
Rozinante, at whose feet down tumbled the unfortunate squire, 
all bruised and beaten, and only just recovering his senses, 
knocked out of him by that pitiless thump with a long pole. 

Don Quixote dismounted to examine his wounds ; but, finding 
him whole from head to foot, in an angry tone, said to him, "In 
an unlucky hour, Sancho, must you needs show your skill at peace- 
making. Thank Heaven that, instead of crossing your back 
with a cudgel, they did not cross it with a scimitar." — " I am not 
now in a condition to answer," replied Sancho ; " for methinks I 
speak through my shoulders. Let us mount, and be gone from 
this place. As for peace-making, I will have done with it ; but I 
shall not with telling that knights-errant fly, and leave their 
faithful squires to be beaten to powder by their enemies." — " To 
retire is not to fly," answered Don Quixote ; " for you must 
know, Sancho, that the valour which has not prudence for its 
basis, is termed rashness. I confess I did retire, but not fled ; 
and herein I imitated sundry valiant persons who have reserved 
themselves for better times ; of this, histories are full of examples, 
which, being of no profit to you, or pleasure to me, I omit at 
present." 

By this time Sancho was mounted with the assistance of 
Don Quixote, who likewise got upon Rozinante ; and so, fair and 
softly they took their way towards a grove of poplar about a 
quarter of a league off. Sancho every now and then fetched 
most profound sighs and doleful groans. Don Quixote asking 
him the cause of such bitter moaning, he answered that he was 
in pain from the lowest point of his backbone to the nape of his 
neck, in such manner that he was ready to swoon." — " The cause 
of this pain," said Don Quixote, " must doubtless be, that the 
pole they struck you with, being a long one, took in your whole 
back, where lie all the parts that give you pain ; and if it had 

o 



2IO THE STORY OF DON QUIXOTE 

reached farther it would have pained you more." — " Mighty 
well ! " said Sancho. " Your worship has brought me out of a 
grand doubt, and explained it in very fine terms. Body of me ! 
was the cause of my pain so hid that it was necessary to tell 
me that I felt pain in all those parts which the pole reached ? 
If my ankles ached, you might not, perhaps, so easily guess why 
they pained me ; but to divine that I am pained because beaten, 
is no great business. In faith, master of mine, other men's 
harms hang by a hair ; I descry land more and more every day, 
and what little I am to expect from keeping your worship com- 
pany ; for if this bout you let me be basted, we shall return again, 
and a hundred times again, to our old blanket-tossing, and other 
follies ; which, if this time they have fallen upon my back, the 
next time will fall upon my eyes. It would be much better for 
me, but that I am a barbarian, and shall never do anything that 
is right while I live : I say again, it would be much better for me 
to return to my own house, and to my wife and children, to main- 
tain and bring them up with the little God shall be pleased to 
give me, and not be following your worship through roads 
without a road, and pathless paths, drinking ill, and eating 
worse. Then for sleeping, measure out, brother squire, seven 
foot of earth, and if that is not sufficient, take as many more ; 
it is in your own power to dish up the mess, and stretch yourself 
out to your heart's content. I wish I may see the first who set 
on foot knight-errantry burnt to ashes, or at least the first that 
would needs be squires to such idiots as all the knights-errant 
of former times must have been. I say nothing of the present ; 
for your worship being one of them, I am bound to pay them 
respect. 

"I would lay a good wager with you, Sancho," said Don Quixote, 
" that now you are talking, you feel no pain in all your body. 
Talk on, my son, all that comes uppermost ; for, so you feel no 
pain, I shall take pleasure in the very trouble your impertinences 
give me ; and if you have so great a desire to return home to 
your wife and children, God forbid I should hinder you. You 
have money of mine in your hands ; see how long it is since we 
made this third sally from our town, and how much you could 



AND HIS SQUIRE SANCHO PANZA. 211 

or ought to get each month, and pay yourself." — "When I served 
Thomas Carrasco, father of the bachelor Sampson Carrasco, whom 
your worship knows full well," said Sancho, " I got three crowns 
a month, besides my victuals. With your worship I cannot tell 
what I may get, though I am sure it is a greater drudgery to be 
a squire to a knight-errant, than servant to a farmer ; for, in fine, 
we who serve husbandmen, though we labour never so hard in 
the daytime, let the worst come to the worst, at night we have a 
supper from the pot, and we sleep in a bed, which is more than 
I have done since I have served your worship, excepting the 
short time we were at Don Diego de Miranda's house, the 
good cheer I had with the skimming of Camacho's pots, and 
while I eat, drank, and slept at Basilius's house. All the rest 
of the time I have lain on the hard ground, in the open air, sub- 
ject to what people call the inclemencies of heaven, living upon 
bits of bread and scraps of cheese, and drinking water some- 
times from the brook, and sometimes from the fountain, such as 
we met with up and down by the way." 

" I confess, Sancho," said Don Quixote, " that all you say is 
true. How much think you I ought to give you more than 
Thomas Carrasco gave you ?" — " I think," answered Sancho, " if 
your worship adds a shilling a month, I shall reckon myself 
well paid. This is to be understood as to wages due for my 
labour ; but as to the promise your worship made of bestowing 
on me the government of an island, it would be just and reason- 
able you should add three shillings more, which make fifteen 
in all." — " It is very well," replied Don Quixote ; " according to 
the wages you have allotted yourself, it is five and twenty days 
since we sallied from our town ; reckon, Sancho, in proportion, 
and see what I owe you, and pay yourself, as I have already 
said, with your own hand," — "Body of me !" said Sancho, " your 
worship is clean out in the reckoning, for, as to the business of 
the promised island, we must compute from the day you pro- 
mised me to the present hour." — " Why, how long is it since I 
promised it you ?" said Don Quixote. " If I remember right/ 
answered Sancho, "it is about twenty years and three days, 
more or less." Don Quixote gave himself a good slap on the 



212 THE STORY OF DON QUIXOTE 

forehead with the palm of his hand, and began to laugh very 
heartily, saying, " Why, my rambling up and down the Sable 
Mountain, with the whole series of our sallies, scarce takes up 
two months, and say you, Sancho, it is twenty years since I 
promised you the island ? Well, I perceive you have a mind 
your wages should swallow up all the money you have of mine. 
If it be so, from henceforward I give it you ; and much good may 
it do you ; for so I may get rid of so worthless a squire, I shall 
be glad to be left poor and penniless. But tell me, perverter of 
the squirely ordinances of knight-errantry, where have you seen 
or read that any squire to a knight-errant ever presumed to 
article with his master, and say so much, and so much per 
month, you must give me to serve you ? Launch, launch out, 
cut-throat, scoundrel, and hobgoblin (for thou art all these) ; 
launch, I say, into the wide ocean of their histories ; and if you 
can find that any squire has said or thought what you have 
now said, I will give you leave to nail it on my forehead, and 
over and over to write fool upon my face in capitals. Turn 
about the bridle, or halter, of Dapple, and be gone home, for one 
single step farther you go not with me. O bread ill-bestow r ed ! 
O promises ill-placed ! O man that hast more of the beast 
than of the human creature ! Now, when I thought of settling 
you, and in such a way, that in spite of your wife, you should 
have been styled your lordship, do you now leave me ? now you 
are for going, when I have taken a firm and effectual resolution 
to make you lord of the best island in the world ? But, as you 
yourself have often said, honey is not for an ass's mouth. <_An 
ass you are, an ass you will continue to be, and an ass you will 
die ; for I verily believe, your life will reach its final period before 
you will perceive or be convinced that you are a beast." 

Sancho looked very wistfully at Don Quixote all the while he 
was thus rating him ; and so great was the compunction he felt, 
that the tears stood in his eyes, and with a doleful and faint 
voice, he said, " Dear sir, I confess that to be a complete ass I 
want nothing but a tail. If your worship will be pleased to put 
one on me, I shall deem it well placed ; and will serve your 
worship in the quality of an ass all the remaining days of my 



AND HIS SQUIRE SANCHO PANZA. 213 

life. Pardon me, sir, have pity on my ignorance, and consider 
that, if L talk too much, it proceeds more from infirmity than 
malice *P>ut he who errs and mends, himself to God commends^/ 
— " I should wonder, Sancho," said Don Quixote, "if you did not 
mingle some little proverb with your talk. Well, I forgive you, 
upon condition of your amendment, and that henceforward you 
show not yourself so fond of your interest, but endeavour to 
enlarge your heart, take courage, and strengthen your mind to 
expect the accomplishment of my promises, which, though they 
are deferred, are not therefore desperate." Sancho answered 
he would, though he should draw force from his weakness. 
Hereupon they entered the poplar grove. Don Quixote accom- 
modated himself at the foot of an elm, and Sancho at the foot 
of a beech. Sancho passed the night uneasily, the cold renew- 
ing the pain of his bruises. Don Quixote passed it in his 
wonted meditations ; but for all that, they both slept, and at 
break of day they pursued their way towards the banks of the 
famous Ebro. 



CHAPTER XV. 

The enchanted bark — The Duke a?id Duchess — Don Quixote's 
reception at the castle — His beard washed — How S audio 
fared. 




N two days after leaving the poplar grove, Don Quix- 
ote and Sancho came to the river Ebro, the sight 
of which gave Don Quixote great pleasure, while he 
contemplated the verdure of its banks, the clearness 
of its waters, arid the smoothness of its current. 

Now, as they sauntered along, they perceived a small bark 
without oars, or any sort of tackle, tied to the trunk of a tree, 
which grew on the brink of the river. Don Quixote looked 
round about him every way, and seeing nobody at all, without 
more ado alighted from Rozinante, ordering Sancho to do the 
like from Dapple, and to tie both the beasts very fast to the 
stem of a poplar or willow, which grew there. Sancho asked 
the reason of this hasty alighting and tying. Don Quixote 
answered, "You are to know, Sancho, that this vessel lies here 
for no other reason in the world but to invite me to embark in 
it, in order to succour some knight, or other person of high de- 
gree, who is in extreme distress ; for such is the practice of en- 
chanters in the books of chivalry, when some knight happens 
to be engaged in some difficulty, from which he cannot be deli- 
vered, but by the hand of another knight. Then, though they 
are distant from each other two or three thousand leagues, and 
even more, they either snatch him up in a cloud, or furnish him 
with a boat to embark in ; and in less than the twinkling of an 
eye, they carry him through the air or over the sea, whither 



THE STORY OF DON QUIXOTE. 215 

they list, and where his assistance is wanted. So that, O 
Sancho, this bark must be placed here for the self-same purpose ; 
and this is as true as that it is now day ; and before it be spent, 
tie Dapple and Rozinante together, and Heaven be our guide, 
for I would not fail to embark, though the king himself should 
entreat me to the contrary." — " Since it is so," answered Sancho, 
"there is no way but to obey and bow the head, giving heed to 
the proverb, ' Do what your master bids you, and sit down by 
him at table/ But for all that, I must warn your worship, that 
to me this same boat seems not to belong to the enchanted, but 
to some fishermen upon the river, for here they catch the best 
shads in the world." 

All this Sancho said while he was tying the cattle, leaving 
them to the protection and care of enchanters, with sufficient 
grief of his soul. Don Quixote bid him be in no pain about 
forsaking those beasts ; for he who was to carry themselves 
through ways and regions of such longitude, would take care 
to feed them. " I do not understand your longitudes," said 
Sancho ; " nor have I heard such a word in all the days of my 
life." — " Longitude," replied Don Quixote, "means length ; and 
no wonder you do not understand it, for you are not bound to 
know Latin." — " Now they are tied," said Sancho, " what must 
we do next?" — "What?" answered Don Quixote, "why, bless 
ourselves, and weigh anchor ; I mean, embark ourselves, and 
cut the rope wherewith the vessel is tied ; " and, leaping into 
it (Sancho following him), he cut the cord, and the boat fell 
off by little and little from the shore. When Sancho saw 
himself about a couple of yards from the bank, he began to 
quake, fearing he should be lost ; but nothing troubled him 
more than to hear his ass bray, and to see Rozinante struggling 
to get loose ; whereupon he said to his master, " The ass brays 
as bemoaning our absence, and Rozinante is endeavouring to 
get loose, to throw himself into the river after us. O dearest 
friends, abide in peace ; and may the madness which separates 
you from us, converted into a conviction of our error, return us 
to your presence ; " and here he began to weep so bitterly, that 
Don Quixote grew angry, and said, " What are you afraid of, 



2l6 THE STORY OF DON QUIXOTE 

cowardly creature ? What weep you for, heart of butter ? Who 
pursues, who hurts you, soul of a house-rat ? or what want 
you, poor wretch, in the midst of abundance ? Art thou, per- 
adventure, trudging barefoot over the rugged Pyrenees ? No, 
but seated upon a bench, like an archduke,- sliding easily down 
the stream of this charming river, whence, in a short space, we 
shall issue out into the boundless ocean. But doubtless we 
are got out already, and must have gone at least seven or eight 
hundred leagues ; probably we are even now past the equi- 
noctial line." — " And when we arrive at that line your worship 
speaks of," said Sancho, " how far shall we have travelled ? " — 
"A great way," replied Don Quixote; "for, of three hundred 
and sixty degrees, contained in the terraqueous globe, accord- 
ing to the computation of Ptolemy, the greatest geographer we 
know of, we shall have travelled one-half, when we come to the 
line I told you of." — "In truth," said Sancho, "your worship 
has brought a very pretty fellow, that same Tolmy (how d'ye 
call him ?) with his amputation, to vouch the truth of what you 
say." 

By this, time they discovered certain large water-mills, stand- 
ing in the midst of the river ; and scarce had Don Quixote 
espied them, when he said with a loud voice to Sancho, " O 
friend, behold, yonder appears the city, castle, or fortress, in 
which some knight lies under oppression, or some queen, 
infanta, or princess, in evil plight; for whose relief I am brought 
hither." — " What the plague of a city, fortress, or castle, do you 
talk of, sir ? " replied Sancho. "Do you not perceive that they 
are mills standing in the river for the grinding of corn?" — 
" Peace, Sancho," said Don Quixote ; "for, though they seem 
to be mills, they are not so. I have already told you that 
enchantments transform and change all things from their 
natural shape. I do not say they change them really from 
one thing to another, but only in appearance, as experience 
showed us in the transformation of Dulcinea, the sole refuge of 
my hopes." 

The boat, being now got into the current of the river, began 
to move a little faster than it had done hitherto. The millers 



AND HIS SQUIRE SANCHO PANZA. 217 

seeing it coming adrift with the stream, and that it was just 
going into the swift stream of the mill-wheels, ran out in all 
haste with long poles to stop it ; and their faces and clothes 
being covered with meal, they made but an ill appearance. 
Calling out aloud, they said, " Madmen, where are you going ? 
Are ye desperate, that you have a mind to drown yourselves, or 
be ground to pieces by the wheels ? " — " Did I not tell you, 
Sancho," said Don Quixote, at this juncture, "that we are come 
where I must demonstrate how far the valour of my arm extends ? 
Look what a parcel of murderers and felons come out against 
me ; see what hobgoblins to oppose us, and what ugly counten- 
ances to scare us. Now ye shall see, rascals." And, standing 
up in the boat, he began to threaten the millers aloud, saying, 
" Ill-led and worse advised scoundrels, set at liberty the person 
you keep under oppression in this your fortress or prison, whether 
of high or low degree ; for I am Don Quixote de la Mancha, 
otherwise called the Knight of the Lions, for whom, by order of 
the high heavens, the putting an happy end to this adventure is 
reserved." And so saying, he clapped his hand to his sword, 
fencing with it in the air against the millers, who, hearing, but 
not understanding, these foolish flourishes, set themselves with 
their poles to stop the boat, which was just entering into the 
stream and eddy of the wheels. Sancho fell upon his knees, 
and prayed to Heaven devoutly to deliver him from so apparent 
a danger ; which it did by the diligence and agility of the 
millers, who, setting their poles against the boat, stopped it, 
though not so dexterously but that they overset it, and tipped 
Don Quixote and Sancho into the water. It was well for Don 
Quixote that he knew how to swim like a goose ; nevertheless, 
the weight of his armour carried him twice to the bottom ; and 
had it not been for the millers, who threw themselves into the 
river, and, as it were, craned them both up, they must have 
inevitably perished. 

When they were dragged on shore, more wet than thirsty, 
Sancho kneeling, with his hands joined, and eyes uplifted, be- 
sought Heaven, in a long and devout prayer, to deliver him 
thenceforward from the daring desires and enterprises of his 



2 1 3 ' THE STORY OF DON QUIXOTE 

master. Then came the fishermen, owners of the boat, which 
the mill-wheels had crushed to pieces ; and, seeing it broken, 
they began to strip Sancho, and demand payment for it from 
Don Quixote, who, with great tranquillity, as if nothing had 
befallen him, told the millers and fishermen he would pay for the 
boat with all his heart, upon condition they should deliver up to 
him, free and without ransom, the person or persons who lay 
under oppression in their castle. "What persons, or what 
castle, do you mean, madman ? " answered one of the millers. 
" Would you carry off those who come to grind their corn at our 
mills ?"" — "Enough," thought Don Quixote to himself; "it will 
be preaching in the desert to endeavour by entreaty to prevail 
with such a mob to do anything that is honourable ; and, in 
this adventure, two able enchanters must have engaged, the one 
frustrating what the other attempts, the one providing me a 
bark, and the other oversetting it. Heaven help us ! I can do 
no more." Then looking towards the mills, he raised his voice, 
and said, " Friends, whoever you are that are enclosed in this 
prison, pardon me, that through my misfortune and yours, I 
cannot deliver you from your affliction ; this adventure is kept 
and reserved for some other knight." Having said this, he 
compounded with the fishermen, and paid five crowns for the 
boat, which Sancho disbursed much against his will, saying, 
"A couple more of such embarkations will sink our whole 
capital." The fishermen and millers stood wondering at these 
two figures, so unlike other men, not being able to comprehend 
what Don Quixote drove at ; so looking upon them as madmen, 
they left them, betaking themselves to their mills, and the fisher- 
men to their huts. Don Quixote and Sancho, like beasts them- 
selves, returned to their beasts ; and thus ended the adventure 
of the enchanted bark. 

The knight and squire were sufficiently melancholy and out 
of humour when they got to their cattle ; especially Sancho, 
who was grieved to the very soul to touch the capital of the 
money, all that was taken from thence seeming to him to be 
so much taken from the very apples of his eyes. In conclu- 
sion, they mounted, without exchanging a word, and quitted the 



AND HIS SQUIRE SANCHO PANZA. 219 

famous river, Don Quixote buried in the thoughts of his love, 
and Sancho in those of his preferment, which he thought, for 
the present, far enough off; for, blockhead as he was, he saw 
well enough that most, or all of his master's actions, were 
extravagancies, so waited for an opportunity, without coming 
to accounts or discharges, to walk off some day or other, and 
march home. But fortune ordered matters quite contrary to 
what he feared. 

It feil out, then, that the next day, about sunset, and at going 
out of a wood, Don Quixote cast his eyes over a green meadow, 
and saw people at the farther side of it ; who, on drawing near, 
he found, were taking the diversion of hawking. Drawing yet 
nearer, he observed among them a lady upon a palfrey, or 
milk-white pad, with green furniture, and a side-saddle of cloth 
of silver. The lady herself also was arrayed in green, and her 
attire was both fanciful and rich. On her left hand she carried 
a hawk ; from which Don Quixote conjectured she must be a 
lady of great quality, and mistress of all those sportsmen about 
her, as in truth she was ; so he said to Sancho, " Run, son 
Sancho, and tell that lady of the palfrey and the hawk, that I, 
' the Knight of the Lions/ if her highness gives me leave, will 
wait upon her to kiss her hands, and to serve her to the utmost 
of my power, in whatever her highness shall command ; and 
take heed, Sancho, how you speak, and have a care not to 
interlard your embassy with any of your proverbs."—" You have 
hit upon the interlarder," said Sancho ; "why this to me? as if 
this were the first time I had carried a message to high and 
mighty ladies in my life." — : ' Excepting that to the Lady Dul- 
cinea," replied Don Quixote, " I know of none you have carried, 
at least none from me." — " That is true," answered Sancho ; 
" but a good paymaster needs no surety : and where there is 
plenty, dinner is not long a-dressing, — I mean, there is no 
need of advising me ; for I am prepared for all, and have a 
smattering of everything." — " I believe it, Sancho," returned his 
master ; " go in a good hour, and Heaven be your guide." 

Sancho went off at a round rate, forcing Dapple out of his 
usual pace, and came where the fair huntress was ; then 



220 THE STORY OF DON QUIXOTE 

alighting, and kneeling before her, said, " Beauteous lady, that 
knight yonder, called ' the Knight of the Lions,' is my master, 
and I am his squire, called at home Sancho Panza. This 
same Knight of the Lions, who not long ago was called ' he of 
the Sorrowful Figure/ sends by me to desire your grandeur 
would be pleased to give leave, that, with your liking, good-will, 
and consent, he may approach and accomplish his wishes, 
which, as he says, and I believe, are no other than to serve 
your high-towering falconry and beauty ; which if your lady- 
ship grant him, you will do a thing that will redound to your 
grandeur's advantage, and he will receive a most signal favour 
and satisfaction." 

" Truly, good squire," answered the lady, " you have delivered 
your message in a manner befitting it. Rise up, for it is not fit 
the squire of so renowned a knight as ' he of the Sorrowful 
Figure ' (of whom we have already heard a great deal in these 
parts) should remain upon his knees : rise, friend, and tell your 
master he may come, and welcome ; for I and the duke, my 
spouse, are at his service in a country-seat we have here hard 
by." Sancho rose up, in admiration as well at the good lady's 
beauty, as at her high breeding and courtesy ; and especially at 
what she had said, that she had some knowledge of his master, 
'the Knight of the Sorrowful Figure ;' and, if she did not call 
him ' the Knight of the Lions/ he concluded it was because he 
had assumed it so very lately. The duchess said to him, " Tell 
me, brother squire, is not this master of yours Don Quixote de la 
Mancha, who has for mistress of his affections one Dulcinea del 
Toboso?" — "The very same," answered Sancho; "and I am 
his squire, called Sancho Panza, unless I was changed in the 
cradle." — " I am very glad of all this," said the duchess ; " go, 
brother Panza, and tell your master he is heartily welcome to 
my estates, and that nothing could happen to me which could 
give me greater pleasure." With this agreeable answer, Sancho, 
infinitely delighted, returned to his master, to whom he re- 
counted all that the great lady had said to him, extolling, in his 
rustic phrase, her beauty, her good humour, and her courtesy, 
to the skies. Don Quixote, putting on his best airs, seated 



AND HIS SQUIRE SANCHO PANZA. 221 

himself well in his saddle, adjusted his visor, enlivened Rozi- 
nante's mettle, and with a courteous bearing, advanced to kiss 
the duchess's hand ; who, having caused the duke, her husband, 
to be called, had been telling him, while Don Quixote was 
coming up, the purport of Sancho's message. And they both 
waited for him with the greatest pleasure, intending to carry 
on the jest, and treat him like a knight-errant, all the while he 
should stay with them, with all the ceremonies usual in books 
of chivalry. 

By this time Don Quixote was arrived, with his beaver up ; 
and making a show of alighting, Sancho hastened to hold his 
stirrup, but was so unlucky, that, in getting off from Dapple, his 
foot hung in one of the rope stirrups in such manner, that it 
was impossible for him to disentangle himself, so he hung by it 
with his face and breast on the ground. Don Quixote, who was 
not used to alight without having his stirrup held, thinking 
Sancho was come to do his office, threw his body off with a 
swing ; and carrying with him Rozinante's saddle, which was 
ill-girthed, both he and the saddle came to the ground, to his 
no small shame, and many a heavy curse muttered between his 
teeth on the unfortunate Sancho, who still had his legs in the 
stocks. The duke commanded some of his sportsmen to help 
the knight and squire ; who raised up Don Quixote in ill plight 
through this fall ; but limping, and as well as he could, he made 
shift to go and kneel before the lord and lady. But the duke 
would by no means suffer it ; on the contrary, alighting from 
his horse, he went and embraced Don Quixote, saying, " I am 
very sorry, Sir Knight of the Sorrowful Figure, that your first 
arrival at my estate should prove so unlucky ; but the careless- 
ness of squires is often the occasion of worse mischances." — " It 
could not be accounted unlucky, O valorous prince," answered 
Don Quixote, u though I had met with no stop till I had fallen 
to the bottom of the deep abyss ! for the glory of having seen 
your highness would have raised me even from thence. My 
squire (out upon the fellow !) is better at letting loose his tongue 
to say unlucky things, than at fastening a saddle to make it sit 
firm ; but whether down or up, on foot or on horseback, I shall 



222 THE STORY OF DON QUIXOTE 

always be at your highness's service, and at my lady duchess's, 
your worthy consort, and worthy mistress of all beauty, and 
universal princess of courtesy." — " Softly, dear Signor Don 
Quixote de la Mancha," said the duke ; " for where Lady Donna 
Dulcinea del Toboso is, it is not reasonable other beauties 
should be praised." 

Sancho Panza was now got free from the noose ; and hap- 
pening to be near, before his master could answer, he said, " It 
cannot be denied, but must be affirmed, that my Lady Dulcinea 
del Toboso is very beautiful ; but ' where we are least aware, 
there, starts the hare.' I have heard say that what they call 
nature is like a potter, who makes earthen vessels, and he who 
makes one handsome vessel, may also make two, and three, and 
a hundred. This I say, because, on my faith, my lady the 
duchess comes not a whit behind my mistress the Lady Dulcinea 
del Toboso." Don Quixote turned himself to the duchess, and 
said, " I assure you, madam, never any knight-errant in the 
world had a more prating, or a more humorous squire, than I 
have ; and he will make my words good, if your highness is 
pleased to make use of my service for some days." To which 
the duchess answered, " I am glad to hear that honest Sancho 
is pleasant ; it is a sign he is discreet ; for pleasantry and good- 
humour, Signor Don Quixote, as your worship well knows, dwell 
not in dull noddles ; and since Sancho is pleasant and witty, 
from henceforward. I pronounce him discreet." — "And a prate- 
apace," added Don Quixote. u So much the better," rejoined 
the duchess, " for many good things cannot be expressed in few 
words, and, that we may not throw away all our time upon 
them, come on, great Knight of the Sorrowful Figure." — " Of 
the Lions, your highness should say," interrupted Sancho ; 
" the Sorrowful Figure is no more." — " Of the Lions then let it 
be," continued the duke. " I say, come on, Sir Knight of the 
Lions, to a castle of mine hard by, where you shall be received 
in a manner suitable to a person of so elevated a rank, and as 
the duchess and I are wont to receive all knights-errant who 
come to it." 

By this time Sancho had adjusted and well-girthed Rozi- 



AND HIS SQUIRE SANCHO PANZA. 223 

nante's saddle; and Don Quixote, mounting upon him, and 
the duke upon a very fine horse, they placed the duchess in 
the middle, and rode towards the castle. The duchess ordered 
Sancho to be near her, being mightily delighted with his 
humour. Sancho was easily prevailed upon, and, winding 
himself in among the three, made a fourth in the conversation, 
to the great satisfaction of the duke and duchess, who 
looked upon it as a notable piece of good fortune to enter- 
tain in their castle such a knight-errant, and such an errant 
squire. 

Excessive was the joy which Sancho felt to see himself, in 
his thinking, a favourite of the duchess's ; expecting to find in 
her castle the same as at Don Diego's, or Basilius's ; for he was 
always a lover of good cheer, and consequently took every 
opportunity of regaling himself by the forelock, where and 
whenever it presented. Now, before they came to the castle, 
the duke rode on before, and gave all his servants their cue, in 
what manner they were to behave to Don Quixote. So, on 
his arriving with the duchess at the castle gate, immediately 
there came two lackeys or grooms, clad in a kind of morn- 
ing gowns of fine crimson satin down to their heels ; who, 
taking Don Quixote in their arms, without being observed, said 
to him, " Go, great sir, and take our lady the duchess off her 
horse." Don Quixote did so ; but the duchess's positiveness 
got the better, and she would not alight, or descend from her 
palfrey, save into the duke's arms, saying she did not think 
herself worthy to charge so grand a knight with so unprofitable 
a burden. At length the duke came out and took her off her 
horse ; and at their entering into a large courtyard, two 
beautiful damsels came, and threw over Don Quixote's 
shoulders a large mantle of the finest scarlet, while in an 
instant all the galleries of the courtyard were crowded with 
men and women-servants, belonging to the duke and duchess, 
crying aloud, "Welcome, the flower and cream of knights- 
errant!" All, or most of them, sprinkled whole bottles of 
sweet-scented waters upon Don Quixote and on the duke and 
duchess ; at which Don Quixote wondered : and this was the 



224 THE STORY OF DON QUIXOTE 

first day that he was thoroughly convinced of his being a true 
knight-errant, not an imaginary one, seeing that he was treated 
just as he had read knights-errant were in former times. 

Sancho, abandoning Dapple, tacked himself close to the 
duchess, and entered into the castle ; but his conscience soon 
pricking him for leaving his ass alone, he approached a reverend 
duenna, one of the duchess's gentlewomen who, among others, 
came out to receive the duchess, and said to her in a whisper, 
" Mistress Gonzalez — or what is your ladyship's name ? " 
" Donna Rodriguez de Grijalva," answered she ; " what would 
you please to have with me, brother ? " To which Sancho 
answered, " Be so good, sweetheart, as to step to the castle 
gate, where you will find a dapple ass of mine ; and be so kind 
as to order him to be put, or put him yourself, into the stable ; 
for the poor thing is a little timorous, and cannot abide to be 
alone by any means in the world." — " If the master be as dis- 
creet as the man," answered the duenna, " we are finely thriven. 
Go, brother, in an evil hour for you and him that brought you 
hither, and make account, you and your beast, that the duennas 
of this house are not accustomed to such kind of offices." — 
" Why truly," answered Sancho, " I have heard my master, 
relating the story of Lancelot, when he from Britain came, say, 
that ladies took care of his person, and duennas of his horse ; 
and as to the particular of my ass, I would not change him 
for Signor Lancelots steed." — " If you are a buffoon, brother," 
replied the duenna, " keep your jokes for some place where 
they may make a better figure, and where you may be paid for 
them ; for from me you will get nothing but a fig for them." — 
" That is pretty well, however," answered Sancho ; " for I am 
sure then it will be a ripe one, there being no danger of your 
losing the game of your years for want of a trick." — " You 
tatter-de-malion ! " cried the duenna, all on fire with rage, 
" whether I am old or no, what 's that to you ? " This she 
uttered so loud, that the duchess heard it, who, turning about, 
and seeing the duenna so disturbed, asked her with whom she 
was so angry? "With this good man here," answered the 
duenna, " who has desired me in good earnest to go and set up 



AND HIS SQUIRE SANCHO PANZA. 225 

an ass of his that stands at the castle gate ; bringing me for a 
precedent, that the same thing was done, I know not where, by- 
one Lancelot ; and telling me how certain ladies looked after 
him, and certain duennas after his steed ; and to mend the 
matter, in mannerly terms, called me an old woman." — " I should 
take that for the greatest affront that could be offered me," 
answered the duchess ; and speaking to Sancho, she said, " Be 
assured, friend Sancho, that Donna Rodriguez is very young, 
and wears those veils more for authority and the fashion, than 
upon account of her years." — " May the remainder of those I 
have to live never prosper," answered Sancho, " if I meant her 
any ill. I only said it, because the tenderness I have for my 
ass is so great, that I thought I could not recommend him to a 
more charitable person, than to Signora Donna Rodriguez." Don 
Quixote, who overheard all, said, " Are these discourses, Sancho, 
fit for this place ? " — " Sir," answered Sancho, " every one must 
speak of his wants, be he where he will. Here I bethought me 
of Dapple, and here I spoke of him ; and if I had thought of him 
in the stable, I had spoken of him there." To which the duke 
said, " Sancho is very much in the right, and not to be blamed 
in anything. Dapple shall have provender to his heart's con- 
tent ; and let Sancho take no further care, for he shall be 
treated like his own person." 

With these discourses, pleasing to all but Don Quixote, they 
mounted the stairs, and conducted the knight into a great 
hall, hung with rich tissue and cloth of gold and brocade. Six 
damsels unarmed him, and served him as pages, all instructed 
and tutored by the duke and duchess what they were to do, and 
how they were to behave towards Don Quixote, that he might 
imagine and see they used him like a knight-errant. He, being 
unarmed, remained in his tight breeches and chamois doublet, 
lean, tall, and stiff, with his jaws meeting, and kissing each 
other on the inside : such a figure that if the damsels who 
waited upon him had not taken care to restrain themselves 
(that being one of the precise orders given them by their lord 
and lady), they had burst with laughing. They desired he would 
suffer himself to be undressed, and put on a clean shirt ; but 



226 THE STORY OF DON QUIXOTE 

he would by no means consent, saying that modesty was as 
becoming a knight-errant as courage. However, he bade them 
give Sancho the shirt ; and shutting himself up with him in a 
room, where stood a rich bed, he pulled off his clothes, and put 
on the shirt ; and, finding himself alone with Sancho, said to 
him, " Tell me, modern buffoon and antique blockhead, do you 
think it a becoming thing to dishonour and affront a duenna so 
venerable and so worthy of respect ? Was that a time to think 
of Dapple ? Or are these gentry likely to let our beasts fare 
poorly who treat their owners so elegantly ? For the love of 
Heaven, Sancho, refrain yourself, and do not discover the grain, 
lest it should be seen of how coarse a country web you are spun. 
Look you, sinner, the master is so much the more esteemed, by 
how much his servants are civiller and better bred ; and one of 
the greatest advantages great persons have over other men, is 
that they employ servants as good as themselves. Do you not 
consider, pitiful thou, and unhappy me, that, if people perceive 
you are a gross peasant, or a ridiculous fool, they will be apt to 
think I am some gross cheat, or some knight of the sharping 
order ? No, no, friend Sancho, pray avoid these inconven- 
iences ; for whoever sets up for a talker and a railer, at the 
first trip tumbles down into a disgraced buffoon. Bridle your 
tongue ; consider, and deliberate upon your words, before they 
go out of your mouth ; and take notice, we are come to a place, 
from whence, by the help of Heaven and the valour of my arm, 
we may depart bettered three or even fivefold in fortune and 
reputation/' Sancho promised him faithfully to sew up his 
mouth, or bite his tongue, before he spoke a word that was not 
to the purpose and well considered, as he commanded him ; 
and that he need be under no pain as to that matter, for no dis- 
covery should be made to his prejudice by him. 

Don Quixote then dressed himself, girt on his sword, threw 
the scarlet mantle over his shoulders, put on a green satin cap, 
which the damsels had given him ; and thus equipped, marched 
into the great saloon, where he found the damsels drawn up in 
two ranks, one on each side, and all of them provided with an 
equipage for washing his hands, which they administered with 



AND HIS SQUIRE SANCHO PANZA. 227 

many reverences and ceremonies. Then came twelve pages, 
with the gentleman-sewer, to conduct him to dinner, where by 
this time the lord and lady were waiting for him. They placed 
him in the middle of them, and, with great pomp and majesty, 
conducted him to another hall, where a rich table was spread 
with four covers only. The duke and duchess came to the hall- 
door to receive him, and with them a grave ecclesiastic, who 
came out with the duke to receive Don Quixote. A thousand 
polite compliments passed upon this occasion ; and, taking 
the knight between them, they went and sat down to table. 
The duke offered him the upper end, and, though he would 
have declined it, the importunities of the duke prevailed 
upon him to accept it. The ecclesiastic seated himself over- 
against him, and the duke and duchess on each side. Sancho 
was present all the while, surprised and astonished to see the 
honour those princes did his master ; and, perceiving the many 
entreaties and ceremonies which passed between the duke and 
Don Quixote, to make him sit at the head of the table, he said, 
" If your honours will give me leave, I will tell you a story of a 
passage that happened in our town concerning places." Scarce 
had Sancho said this, when Don Quixote began to tremble, 
believing, without doubt, he was going to say some foolish 
thing. Sancho observed and understood him, and said, " Be 
not afraid, sir, of any breaking loose, or of my saying anything 
that is not pat to the purpose. I have not forgotten the advice 
your worship gave me a while ago, about talking much or little, 
well or ill." — " I remember nothing, Sancho," answered Don 
Quixote ; " say what you will, so you say it quickly." — " What 
I would say," continued Sancho, " is very true, and, should it 
be otherwise, my master Don Quixote, who is present, will not 
suffer me to lie." — " Lie as much as you will for me, Sancho," 
replied Don Quixote ; " I will not be your hindrance ; but take 
heed what you are going to say." — " I have so heeded, and re- 
heeded it," rejoined Sancho, " that all is safe, as you will see in 
the end." — " It will be convenient," said Don Quixote, " that 
your honours order this blockhead to be turned out of doors ; 
for he will be making a thousand foolish blunders." — " By the 



228 THE STORY OF DON QUIXOTE 

life of the duke," said the duchess, " Sancho shall not stir a jot 
from me ; I love him much ; for I know he is mighty discreet/' 
— "Many such years" said Sancho, "may your holiness live, 
for the good opinion you have of me, though it is not in me ; 
but the tale I would tell is this : — 

" A certain gentleman of our town, very rich, and of a good 
family — for was he not descended from the Alamos of Medina 
de Campo, and married Donna Mencia de Quinnones, who was 
daughter of Don Alonzo de Marannon, Knight of the Order of 
St James, who was drowned in the Herradura ? about whom 
there happened that quarrel in our town some years ago, in 
which, as I take it, my master, Don Quixote, was concerned, 
and Tommy the madcap, son of Balvastro the smith, was hurt 

Pray, good master of mine, is not all this true ? Speak, by 

your life, that these gentlemen may not take me for some lying, 
prating fellow." — " Hitherto," said the ecclesiastic, " I take you 
rather for a prater, than for a liar ; but henceforward I know 
not what I shall take you for." — " You produce so many 
evidences, and so many tokens, that I cannot but say," said 
Don Quixote, " it is likely you tell the truth ; go on, and shorten 
the story." — " He shall shorten nothing," said the duchess ; 
" and, to please me, he shall tell it his own way." 

" I say, then, sirs," proceeded Sancho, " that this same gentle- 
man, whom I know as well as I do my right hand from my left 
(for it is not a bow-shot from my house to his), invited a farmer, 
who was poor, but honest, to dinner." — " Proceed, friend," said 
the ecclesiastic, at this period ; " for you are going the way with 
your tale, not to stop till you come to the other world." — "I 
shall stop before we get half-way thither, if it pleases Heaven," 
answered Sancho : " and so I proceed. This same farmer, 

coming to the said gentleman-inyiter's house rest his soul ! 

for he is dead and gone, by the same token it is reported he 
died like an angel ; for I was not by, being at that time gone a- 
reaping to Tembleque." — " Pr'ythee, son," said the ecclesiastic, 
" come back quickly from Tembleque ; and, without burying 
the gentleman (unless you have a mind to make more burials), 
make an end of your tale." — " The business, then," said Sancho, 



AND HIS SQUIRE SANCHO PANZA. 229 

u was this, that they being ready to sit down to table — methinks, 
I see them now more than ever." The duke and duchess took 
great pleasure in seeing the displeasure the good ecclesiastic 
suffered by the length and pauses of Sancho's tale ; but Don 
Quixote was quite angry and vexed. " I say then," said Sancho, 
" that they, both standing, as I have said, and just ready to sit 
down, the farmer disputed obstinately with the gentleman to 
take the upper end of the table, and the gentleman, with as 
much positiveness, pressed the farmer to take it, saying he 
ought to command in his own house. But the countryman, 
piquing himself upon his civility and good-breeding, would by 
no means sit down, till the gentleman, in a fret, laying both his 
hands upon the farmer's shoulders, made him sit down by main 
force, saying, ' Sit thee down, chaff-threshing churl ; for, let me 
sit where I will, that is the upper end to thee.' This is my tale ; 
and truly I believe it was brought in here pretty much to the 
purpose." 

The natural brown of Don Quixote's face was speckled with a 
thousand colours. The duke and duchess dissembled their 
laughter, that Don Quixote might not be quite abashed, he 
having understood Sancho's slyness ; and, to wave the discourse, 
and prevent Sancho's running into more impertinencies, the 
duchess asked Don Quixote what news he had of the Lady 
Dulcinea, and whether he had lately sent her any presents of 
giants or caitiffs, since he must certainly have vanquished a 
great many. To which Don Quixote answered, " My misfor- 
tunes, madam, though they have had a beginning, will never 
have an end. Giants I have conquered, and caitiffs, and have 
sent several ; but where should they find her, if she be enchanted, 
and transformed into the ugliest country wench that can be 
imagined ? "' — " I know not," said Panza ; " to me she appeared 
the most beautiful creature in the world ; at least, in activity, or 
a certain spring she has with her, I am sure she will not yield 
the advantage to a tumbler. In good faith, lady duchess, she 
bounces from the ground upon an ass as if she were a cat." — 
''Have you seen her enchanted, Sancho?" asked the duke. 
" Seen her ? " answered Sancho : "who but I was the first that 



23O THE STORY OF DON QUIXOTE 

hit upon the business of her enchantment ? She is as much 
enchanted as my father." 

The ecclesiastic, when he heard talk of giants, caitiffs, and 
enchantments, began to suspect that this must be Don Quixote 
de la Mancha, of whom he had heard; and, being assured of 
the truth of his suspicion, with much choler he said to the duke, 
"Your excellency, sir, shall give an account to God for what 
this good man is doing. This Don Quixote, or Don Coxcomb — 
or how do you call him ? — I fancy, can hardly be so great an 
idiot as your excellency would have him, laying occasions in his 
way to go on in his follies and extravagancies." And turning 
the discourse to Don Quixote, he said, " And you, stupid wretch, 
who has thrust it into your brain that you are a knight-*errant, 
and that you conquer giants and seize caitiffs ? Be gone in a 
good hour, and in such this is said to you ; return to your own 
house, and bring up your children, if you have any ; mind your 
affairs, and cease to ramble up and down the world, sucking the 
wind, and making all people laugh that know you, or know you 
not. Where, with a mischief, have you ever found that there 
have been, or are knights-errant ? Where are there any giants 
in Spain, or caitiffs in La Mancha, or Dulcineas enchanted, or 
all the rabble rout of follies that are told of you?" Don 
Quixote was very attentive to the words of this venerable man ; 
and, finding that he now held his peace, — without minding the 
respect due to the duke and duchess, — with angry mien, and dis- 
turbed countenance, started up, and trembling from head to 
foot, said, "The place where I am, and the presence of the 
personages before whom I stand, together with the respect I 
ever had, and have, for men of your profession, tie up the hands 
of my just indignation ; and therefore, as well upon the account 
of what I have said, as being conscious of what everybody 
knows, that the weapons of the clergy are the same as those of 
women, their tongues, I will enter with mine into combat with 
your reverence, from whom one rather ought to have expected 
good counsels than opprobrious revilings. Pious and well- 
meant reproof demands another kind of behaviour and language ; 
at least, the reproving me in public, and so rudely, has passed 



AND HIS SQUIRE SANCHO PANZA. 23I 

all the bounds of decent reprehension. Tell me, I beseech your 
reverence, for which of the follies you have seen in me, do you 
condemn and revile me, bidding me get me home, and take care 
of my house, and of my wife and children, without knowing 
whether I have either ? What ! is there no more to do but to 
enter boldly into other men's houses, to govern the masters ; 
and shall a poor pedagogue, who never saw more of the world, 
than what is contained within a district of twenty or thirty 
leagues, set himself at random to prescribe laws to chivalry, 
and to judge of knights-errant ? If gentlemen, if persons of 
wealth, birth, and quality were to take me for a madman, I 
should look upon it as an irreparable affront ; but to be esteemed 
a fool by pedants, who never entered upon or trod the paths of 
chivalry, I value it not a farthing. A knight I am, and a knight 
I will die, if it be Heaven's good will. I have redressed 
grievances, righted wrongs, chastised insolences, vanquished 
giants, and trampled upon hobgoblins. I am in love, but only 
because knights-errant must be so. My intentions are always 
directed to virtuous ends, to do good to all, and hurt to none. 
Whether he who means thus, acts thus, and lives in the 
practice of all this, deserves to be called a fool, let your gran- 
deurs judge, most excellent duke and duchess." 

" Well said, i'faith ! " put in Sancho : "say no more in vindi- 
cation of yourself, good my lord and master ; for there is no 
more to be said, or to be thought, or to be persevered in, in 
the world ; and besides, this gentleman denying, as he has 
denied, that there ever were, or are, knights-errant, no wonder if 
he knows nothing of what he has been talking of." — " Peradven- 
ture," said the ecclesiastic, "you, brother, are that Sancho 
Panza they talk of, to whom your master has promised an 
island." — " I am so," answered Sancho ; " and am he who de- 
serves one as well as any other he whatever. I am one of those 
of whom they say, ' Associate with good men, and thou wilt be 
one of them ; ' and of those of whom it is said again, ' Not with 
whom thou wert bred, but with whom thou hast fed ;' and, ' He 
that leaneth against a good tree, a good shelter findeth he.' I 
have leaned to a good master, and have kept him company 



232 THE STORY OF DON QUIXOTE 

these many months, and shall be such another as he, if it be 
God's good pleasure ; and if he lives, and I live, neither shall 
he want kingdoms to rule, nor I islands to govern." — " That 
you shall not, friend Sancho," said the duke ; "for, in the name 
of Signor Don Quixote, I promise you the government of one of 
mine, now vacant, and of no inconsiderable value." — " Kneel, 
Sancho," said Don Quixote, "and kiss his excellency's feet for 
the favour he has done you." Sancho did so. Which the 
ecclesiastic seeing, he got up from table in a great pet, say- 
ing, " By the habit I wear, I could find in my heart to say, 
your excellency is as simple as these sinners : what wonder if 
they are mad, since wise men authorise their follies ? Your ex- 
cellency may stay with them, if you please ; but, while they are 
in the house, I will stay in my own, and save myself the trouble 
of reproving what I cannot remedy." And without saying a 
word, or eating a bit more, away he went, the entreaties of the 
duke and duchess not availing to stop him ; though indeed the 
duke said not much, through laughter occasioned by his unrea- 
sonable passion. 

The laugh being over, he said to Don Quixote : " Sir Knight 
of the Lions, you have answered so well for yourself, that there 
remains nothing to demand satisfaction for in this case : for, 
though it has the appearance of an affront, it is by no means 
such, since, as women cannot give an affront, so neither can 
ecclesiastics, as you better know." — "It is true," answered Don 
Quixote, " and the reason is, that whoever cannot be affronted, 
neither can he give an affront to anybody. Women, children, 
a nd clergymen, as they cannot defend themselves, though they 
are offended, so they cannot be affronted, because, as your ex- 
cellency better knows, there is this difference between an injury 
and an affront : an affront comes from one who can give it, 
does give it, and then maintains it ; an injury may come from 
any hand, without affronting. And, therefore, in this instance, 
I may be injured, but not affronted : for women and children 
cannot resent, nor can they fly, or stand their ground. The 
same may be said of men consecrated to holy orders : for these 
three sorts of people want offensive and defensive weapons ; 



AND HIS SQUIRE SANCHO PANZA. 233 

and though they are naturally bound to defend themselves, yet 
are they not to offend anybody. So that, though I said before 
I was injured, I now say, in no wise ; for he who cannot receiye 
an affront, can much less give one. For which reasons I neither 
ought, nor do resent what that good man said to me ; only I 
could have wished he had stayed a little longer, that I might 
have convinced him of his error in thinking and saying that 
there are no knights-errant now, nor ever were any in the world ; 
for had Amadis, or any one of his numerous descendants, heard 
this, I am persuaded it would net have fared over well with his 
reverence." — "That I will swear," said Sancho : "they would 
have given him such a slash, as would have cleft him from top 
to toe like any over-ripe melon : they were not folks to be jested 
with in that manner. By my beard, I am very certain, had 
Reynaldos of Montalvan heard the little gentleman talk at that 
rate, he would have given him such a gag, that he should not 
have spoken a word more in three years. Ay, ay, let him meddle 
with them, and see how he will escape out of their hands." The 
duchess was ready to die with laughter at hearing Sancho talk. 
In her opinion, she took him to be more ridiculous and more 
mad than his master ; and there were several others at that time 
of the same mind. 

At last Don Quixote was calm, and dinner ended. At taking 
away the cloth, there entered four damsels ; one with a silver 
ewer, another with a basin, of silver also, a third with two fine 
clean towels over her shoulder, and the fourth tucked up to her 
elbows, and in her white hands a wash-ball of Naples soap. 
She with the basin drew near, and with a well-bred air and 
assurance, clapped it under Don Quixote's beard ; who, without 
speaking a word, and wondering- at the ceremony, believed it to 
be the custom of that country to wash beards instead of hands, 
and therefore stretched out his own as far as he could. In- 
stantly the ewer began to rain upon him, and the wash-ball 
damsel hurried over his beard with great dexterity of hand, rais- 
ing great flakes of snow (for the lathering was not less white), 
not only over the beard, but over the whole face and eyes of the 
obedient knight, insomuch that it made him shut them, w r hether 



234 THE STORY OF DON QUIXOTE 

he would or no. The duke and duchess, who knew nothing of 
all this, were in wonderment what this extraordinary washing 
business would end in. The barber-damsel, having raised a 
lather a handful high, pretended that the water was all spent, 
and ordered the girl with the ewer to fetch more, telling her 
Signor Don Quixote would stay till she came back. She did so, 
and Don Quixote remained the strangest and most ridiculous 
figure imaginable. All that were present, beheld him ; and 
seeing him with a neck half a yard long, more than moderately 
swarthy, his eyes shut, and his beard all in a lather, it was a 
great wonder, and a sign of great discretion, that they forbore 
laughing. The damsels concerned in the jest held down their 
eyes, not daring to look at their lord and lady ; who were divided 
between anger and laughter, not knowing what to do, whether 
to chastise the girls for their boldness, or reward them for the 
pleasure they took in beholding Don Quixote in that pickle. At 
last the damsel of the ewer came, and they made an end of 
washing the knight. Then she who carried the towels wiped 
and dried him with much deliberation ; and all four at once, 
making him a profound reverence, were going off; but the 
duke, that Don Quixote might not smell the jest, called the 
damsel with the basin, saying, " Come and wash me too, and 
take care you have water enough." The arch and diligent girl 
came, and clapped the basin to the duke's chin, as she had done 
to Don Quixote's, very expeditiously washed and lathered him 
well, and leaving him clean and dry, they made their curtsies, 
and away they went. It was afterwards known that the duke 
had sworn that, had they not washed him as they did Don 
Quixote, he would have punished them for their pertness, which 
they had discreetly made amends for by serving him in the 
same manner. Sancho was very attentive to the ceremonies of 
this washing, and said to himself, " Goodness guide us ! is it the 
custom, I wonder, of this place to wash the beards of squires as 
well as of knights ? On my conscience and soul, I need it much ; 
and, if they will give me a stroke of a razor, I should take it for 
a still greater favour." — "What are you saying to yourself, 
Sancho?" asked the duchess. "I say, madam," answered 



AND HIS SQUIRE SANCHO PANZA. 235 

Snncho, "that in other princes' courts, I have always heard said 
when the cloth is taken away, they bring water to wash hands, 
and not suds to scour beards ; and therefore one must live long, 
to see much. It is also said, he who lives a long life must pass 
through many evils ; though one of these same scourings is 
rather a pleasure than a pain." — " Take no care, friend Sancho," 
said the duchess ; " for I will order my damsels to wash you 
too, and lay you in steep, if need be."—" For the present, I 
shall be satisfied as to my beard," answered Sancho ; "for the 
rest I will take my chance." — " Hark you, sewer," said the 
duchess, "mind what honest Sancho desires, and do precisely 
as he would have you." The sewer answered, that Signor 
Sancho should be punctually obeyed ; and so away he went to 
dinner, taking Sancho with him, the duke and duchess remain- 
ing at table with Don Quixote, discoursing of sundry and divers 
matters, but all relating to the profession of arms and knight- 
errantry. 

The duchess entreated Don Quixote, since he seemed to have 
so happy a memory, that he would delineate and describe the 
beauty and features of the Lady Dulcinea del Toboso ; for, ac- 
cording to what fame proclaimed of her beauty, she took it for 
granted she must be the fairest creature in the world, and even 
in all La Mancha. Don Quixote sighed at hearing the duchess's 
request, and said, " If I could pull out my heart, and lay it be- 
fore your grandeur's eyes here upon the table in a dish, I might, 
save my tongue the labour of telling what can hardly be con- 
ceived ; for there your excellency would see her painted to the 
life. But why should I go about to delineate and describe, one 
by one, the perfections of the peerless Dulcinea, it being a bur- 
den fitter for other shoulders than mine, an enterprise worthy to 
employ the pencils of Parrhasius, Timantes, and Apelles, and 
the graving tools of Lysippus, to paint and carve in pictures, 
marbles, and bronzes ; and Ciceronian and Demosthenian 
rhetoric, to praise them." — " What is the meaning of Demosthe- 
nian, Signor Don Quixote ?" asked the duchess ; " it is a word 
I never heard in all the days of my life." — " Demosthenian 
rhetoric," answered Don Quixote, "isas much as to say the rhetoric 



236 THE STORY OF DON QUIXOTE 

of Demosthenes, as Ciceronian of Cicero." — " That is true," said 
the duke ; " but for all that, Signor Don Quixote would give us a 
great deal of pleasure in painting her to us ; for, though it be but 
a sketch only, doubtless she will appear such as the most beau- 
tiful may envy." — " So she would most certainly," answered 
Don Quixote, "had not the misfortune which lately befell her 
blotted her idea out of my mind ;^ for your grandeurs must know 
that, going a few days ago to kiss her hands, and receive her 
licence for this third sally, I found her quite another person than 
her I sought for. I found her enchanted, and converted from 
a princess into a country wench, from beautiful to ugly, from 
an angel to a demon, from courtly to rustic, from light to dark- 
ness, from a sober lady to jumping Joan ; and, in fine, from Dul- 
cinea del Toboso to a clownish wench of Sayago." — " Heaven 
help us!" cried the duke; "who may it be that has done so 
much mischief to the world ? " — " Who ? " answered Don Quix- 
ote, " who could it be, but some malicious enchanter ? En- 
chanters have hitherto persecuted me ; enchanters still persecute 
me ; and enchanters will continue to persecute me, till they have 
tumbled me and my lofty chivalries into the profound abyss of 
oblivion : and they hurt and wound me in the most sensible 
part ; since to deprive a knight-errant of his mistress is to deprive 
him of the eyes he sees with, the sun that enlightens him, and 
the food that sustains him." 

" There is no more to be said," replied the duchess ; " but for 
all that, do we not understand that your worship never saw the 
Lady Dulcinea, and that there is no such lady in the world, she 
being only an imaginary lady, dressed out with all the graces 
and perfections you pleased ?" — " There is a great deal to be said 
upon this subject," answered Don Quixote. "Heaven knows 
whether there be a Dulcinea or not in the world, and whether 
she be imaginary or not imaginary ; this is one of those things 
the proof whereof is not to be too nicely inquired into. Dulcinea, 
it is true, is the daughter of her own works ; but virtue ennobles 
blood, and a virtuous person, though mean, is more to be valued 
than a vicious person of quality. Besides, Dulcinea has endow- 
ments which may raise her to be a queen with crown and sceptre ; 



AND HIS SQUIRE SANCHO PANZA. 237 

for the merit of a beautiful, virtuous woman extends to the working 
greater miracles, and though not formally, yet virtually she has 
in herself greater advantages in store." — " I say, Signor Don 
Quixote," cried the duchess, " that, for my own part, hencefor- 
ward I will believe, and make all my family believe, and even 
my lord duke, if need be, that there is a Dulcinea in Toboso, 
and that she is this day living and beautiful, and especially well- 
born — and well-deserving that such a knight as Signor Don 
Quixote should be her servant, which is the highest commenda- 
tion I can bestow upon her. But how about Sancho Panza 
finding the said Lady Dulcinea, when he carried her a letter 
from your worship, winnowing a sack of wheat ? — by the same 
token he says it was red, which makes me doubt the highness 
of her birth." 

To which Don Quixote answered, " Madam, your grandeur 
must know that most or all the things which befell me exceed 
the ordinary bounds of what happen to other knights-errant. 
Wherefore I am of opinion that when my squire carried her 
my message, some vile enchanter had transformed her into a 
country wench, busied in that mean employment of winnowing 
wheat. But I have before said that the wheat was not red, nor 
indeed wheat, but grains of oriental pearl ; and for proof hereof 
I must tell your grandeurs that, coming lately through Toboso, 
I could not find Dulcinea's palace ; and that Sancho, my squire, 
having seen her the other day in her own proper figure, the 
most beautiful on the globe, to me she appeared a coarse ugly 
country wench, and not well-spoken, whereas she is discretion 
itself; and since I neither am, nor in all likelihood can be en- 
chanted, it is she is the enchanted, the injured, and transformed. 
All this I have said, that no stress may be laid upon what 
Sancho told of Dulcinea's sifting and winnowing ; for, since to 
me she was changed, no wonder if she was metamorphosed to 
him, who is one of the most ingenious squires that ever served 
knight-errant. Indeed, I would not exchange him for any 
other squire, though a city were given me to boot ; and there- 
fore I am in doubt whether I shall do well to send him to 
the government your grandeur has favoured him with ; though 



238 THE STORY OF DON QUIXOTE 

I perceive in him such a fitness for the business of governing - , 
that, with a little polishing of his understanding, he would be 
as much master of that art as the king is of his customs. Be- 
sides, we know that there is no need of much ability, or much 
learning, to be a governor ; for there are a hundred of them up 
and down that can scarcely read, and yet they govern as sharp 
as so many hawks. The main point is, that their intention be 
good, and that they desire to do everything right. My counsel 
to him would be, ' All bribes to refuse, but insist on his dues ;' 
with some other little matters which lie in my breast, and shall 
out in proper time, for Sancho's benefit, and the good of the 
island he is to govern." 

Thus far had the duke, the duchess, and Don Quixote pro- 
ceeded in their discourse, when they heard several voices, and a 
great noise in the palace ; and presently Sancho came into the 
hall all in a chafe, with a dish-cloth for a slabbering bib, and 
after him a parcel of kitchen-boys, and other lower servants. 
One of them carried a tray full of water, which, by its colour 
and uncleanness, seemed to be dish-water. He followed and 
persecuted him, endeavouring with all earnestness to fix it 
under his chin, whilst another scullion seemed as solicitous to 
wash his beard. " What is the matter, brothers ? " asked the 
duchess ; " what would you do to this good man ? What ! 
do you not consider that he is a governor elect ? " To 
which the roguish barber answered, " Madam, this gentleman 
will not suffer himself to be washed, as is the custom, and as 
our lord the duke, and his master have been." — " Yes, I will," 
answered Sancho, in great wrath ; " but I would have cleaner 
towels, and cleaner suds, and not such filthy hands ; for there 
is no such difference between me and my master, that he 
should be washed with angel-water, and I with such rubbish. 
This custom of scouring here is worse than that of the whip- 
ping gaol-birds. My beard is clean ; I have no need of such 
refreshings ; and he who offers to scour me, or touch a hair of 
my head, I mean of my beard, with due reverence be it spoken, 
I will give him such a douse, that I will set my fist fast in his 
skull ; for such ceremonies and soapings as these look more 



AND HIS SQUIRE SANCHO PANZA. 239 

like jibes than courtesy to guests." The duchess was ready to 
die with laughing to see the rage, and hear the reasonings, of 
Sancho ; but Don Quixote was not over-pleased to see him so 
accoutred with the dirty towel, and surrounded with such a 
parcel of kitchen-folk; so, making a low bow to the duke and 
duchess, he said to the rabble, with a solemn voice, " Ho, gentle- 
men-cavaliers, be pleased to let the young man alone, and 
return from whence you came, or to any other place you list ; 
for my squire is as clean as another man. Take my advice, 
and let him alone ; for neither he nor I understand jesting." 
Sancho caught the words out of his master's mouth, and pro- 
ceeded, saying, " No, no, let them go on with their jokes ; for 
I will endure it, as much as it is now night. Let them bring 
hither a comb, or what else they please, and let them curry this 
beard till their wrists ache with pain if they like." 

Here the duchess, still laughing, said, " Sancho Panza is in 
the right in whatever he has said, and will be so in whatever he 
shall say. He is clean, and, as he says, needs no washing ; 
and if he is not pleased with our custom, he can do as he 
likes. And besides, you ministers of cleanliness have been 
extremely remiss and careless, and I may say presumptuous, 
in bringing to such a personage, and such a beard, your trays 
and dish-clouts, instead of ewers and basins of pure gold, and 
towels of diaper ; but, in short, you are a parcel of scoundrels, 
and ill-born, and cannot forbear showing the grudge you bear 
to the squires of knights-errant." The roguish servants, and 
even the sewer who came with them, believed that the duchess 
spoke in earnest ; so they took Sancho's dish-cloth off his neck, 
and, with some confusion and shame, slank away and left him ; 
who, finding himself rid of what he thought an imminent 
danger, went and kneeled before the duchess, saying, " From 
great folks great favours are to be expected ; that which your 
ladyship has done me to-day cannot be repaid with less than 
the desire of seeing myself dubbed a knight-errant, that I may 
employ all the days of my life in the service of so high a lady. 
A peasant I am ; Sancho Panza is my name ; married I am ; 
children I have ; and I serve as a squire ; if with any one of 



240 THE STORY OF DON QUIXOTE. 

these I can be serviceable to your grandeur, I shall not be 
slower in obeying than your ladyship in commanding." — " It 
appears plainly, Sancho," answered the duchess, " that you 
have learned to be courteous in the school of courtesy itself, — 
I mean, it is evident you have been bred in the bosom of Signor 
Don Quixote, who must needs be the cream of complaisance, 
and the flower of ceremony, or cirimony, as you say. Well fare 
such a master, and such a man ! Rise up, friend Sancho ; for 
I will make you amends for your civility, by prevailing with 
my lord duke to perforin, as soon as possible, the promise he 
has made you of the government." 

Thus ended the conversation ; Don Quixote went to repose 
himself during the heat of the day ; and the duchess desired 
Sancho, if he had not an inclination to sleep, to pass the after- 
noon with her and her damsels in a very cool hall. Sancho 
answered, that though indeed he was wont to sleep four or five 
hours a-day during the afternoon heats of the summer, to wait 
upon her goodness, he would endeavour with all his might not 
to sleep at all that day, and would be obedient to her com- 
mands ; and so away he went. The duke gave fresh orders 
about treating Don Quixote as a knight-errant, without deviat- 
ing a tittle from the style in which we read the knights of 
former times were treated. 




CHAPTER XVI. 

Sanchds conversation with the dicchess — Goes a-hunting with 
the duke and duchess — How Dulcinea was to be disen- 
chanted — Sancho consents to whip himself. 

[jjANCHO PANZA did not sleep that afternoon, but, to 
keep his word, came with the meat in his mouth to 
see the duchess, who, being delighted to hear him 
talk, made him sit down by her on a low stool, 
though Sancho, out of pure good manners, would have declined 
it ; but the duchess would have him sit down as a governor, 
and talk as a squire. Sancho shrugged up his shoulders, 
obeyed, and sat down ; and all the duchess's damsels and 
duenna's got round about him, to hear what he would say. But 
the duchess spoke first, saying, " Now we are alone, and that 
nobody hears us, I would willingly be satisfied by Signor Gover- 
nor as to some doubts I have ; one of which is, that, since 
honest Sancho never saw Dulcinea, I mean the Lady Dulcinea 
del Toboso, nor carried her Don Quixote's letter, it being left in 
the pocket-book in the Sable Mountain, how durst he feign the 
answer, and the story of his finding her winnowing wheat, it 
being all a sham and a lie ?" 

At these words, without making any reply, Sancho got up 
from his stool, and stepping softly, with his body bent, and his 
finger on his lips, crept round the room, lifting up the hangings ; 
and this being done, he presently sat down again, saying, 
" Now, madam, that I am sure nobody but the company hears 
us, I will answer, without fear or emotion, to all you have 
asked, and to all you shall ask me ; and the first thing I tell 

Q 



242 THE STORY OF DON QUIXOTE 

you is, that I take my master Don Quixote for a downright 
madman, though sometimes he comes out with things which, 
to my thinking, and in the opinion of all that hear him, 
are so discreet, and so well put together, that an archbishop 
could not speak better ; and yet, for all that, in good truth, I 
am firmly persuaded he is mad. Now, having settled this in 
my mind, I dare undertake to make him believe anything that 
has neither head nor tail, like the business of the answer to the 
letter, and another affair of some six or eight days' standing, I 
mean the enchantment of my mistress Donna Dulcinea ; for 
you must know, I made him believe she was enchanted, though 
there is no more truth in it than that two and three make four." 
The duchess desired him to tell her the particulars of that 
enchantment ; so Sancho recounted the whole exactly as it had 
passed ; at which the hearers were not a little pleased, and the 
duchess, proceeding in her discourse, said, " From what honest 
Sancho has told me, a certain scruple has started into my head, 
and something whispers me in the ear, saying to me, ' Since 
Don Quixote de la Mancha is a fool, an idiot, and a madman, 
and Sancho Panza, his squire, knows it, and yet serves and 
follows him, and relies on his vain promises, without doubt he 
must be more mad and more stupid than his master ; and, this 
being really the case, it will turn to bad account, lady duchess, 
if to such a Sancho Panza you give an island to govern ; for 
he who knows not how to govern himself, how should he know 
how to govern others ?' " — " By my faith, madam," said Sancho, 
"this same scruple comes in the nick of time ; and had I been 
wise, I should have left my master long ere now ; but such was 
my lot, and such my evil-errantry. I can do no more ; follow 
him I must ; we are both of the same town ; I have eaten his 
bread ; I love him ; he returns my kindness ; he gave me his 
ass-colts, and, above all, I am faithful ; and therefore it is 
impossible anything should part us but the sexton's spade and 
shovel. And if your highness has no mind the government 
you promised should be given me, God made me of less, and it 
may be the not giving it me may redound to the benefit of my 
conscience ; for, as great a fool as I am, I understand the pro- 



AND HIS SQUIRE SANCHO PANZA. 243 

verb, ' The ant had wings to her hurt ; ' and perhaps it may be 
easier for Sancho the squire to get to heaven, than for Sancho 
the governor. They make as good bread here as in France ; 
and, ' In the dark all cats are gray ; ' and, ' Unhappy is he who 
has not breakfasted at three ; ' and, ' No stomach is a span 
bigger than another,' and may be filled, as they say, with straw 
or with hay ; and, ' Of the little birds in the air, God himself 
takes the care ; ' and, ' Four yards of coarse cloth of Cuenza 
are warmer than as many of fine Segovia serge ; ' and, ' At our 
leaving this world, and going into the next, the prince travels in 
as narrow a path as the day-labourer ; and the pope's body 
takes up no more room than the sexton's, though the one be 
higher than the other ; ' and so good-night ; and therefore I 
say again, that if your ladyship will not give me the island, 
because 1 am a fool, I will be so wise as not to care a fig for 
it : and I have heard say, 'All is not gold that glitters ;' and, 
' Bamba the husbandman was taken from among his ploughs, 
his yokes, and oxen, to be king of Spain ; ' and, ' Roderigo was 
taken from his brocades, pastimes, and riches, to be devoured 
by snakes,' if ancient ballads do not lie." 

The duchess could not but admire to hear the reasonings and 
proverbs of Sancho, to whom she said, " Honest Sancho knows 
full well that whatever a knight once promises, he endeavours to 
perform it, though it cost him his life. The duke, my lord and hus- 
band, though he is not of the errant order, is nevertheless a knight, 
and therefore will make good his word as to the promised island, 
in spite of the envy and the wickedness of the world. Let Sancho 
be of good cheer ; for when he least thinks of it, he shall find 
himself seated in the chair of state of his island and of his terri- 
tory. What I charge him is, to take heed how he governs his 
vassals, remembering that they are all loyal and well-born." — " As 
to governing them well," answered Sancho, "there is no need of 
giving it me in charge ; for I am naturally charitable and com- 
passionate to the poor, and, ' None will dare the loaf to steal, from 
him that sifts and kneads the meal ; ' and, by my beard, they 
shall put no false dice upon me ; I am too old a bird to be caught 
with chaff, and I know how to snuff my eyes in proper time, and 



244 THE STORY OF DON QUIXOTE 

will not suffer cobwebs to get into my eyes ; for I know where 
the shoe pinches. All this I say, that the good may be sure to 
have me both heart and hand, and the bad neither foot nor footing ; 
and, in my opinion, as to the business of governing, the whole 
lies in the beginning ; and, perhaps, when I have been fifteen 
days a governor, my fingers may itch after the office, and I may 
know more of it than of the labour of the field, to which I was 
bred." — " You are in the right, Sancho," said the duchess. " But, 
concerning the enchantment of the Lady Dulcinea, I am very 
certain that Sancho's design of putting a trick upon his master, 
and making him believe that the country wench was Dulcinea, 
and that, if his master did not know her, it must proceed from 
her being enchanted, was all a contrivance of some one or other 
of the enchanters who persecute Don Quixote ; for really, and 
in truth, I know from good hands that the girl who jumped upon 
the ass was, and is, Dulcinea del Toboso ; so that honest Sancho, 
in thinking he was the deceiver, was himself deceived. For 
Signor Sancho Panza must know that here also we have our 
enchanters, who tell us plainly and sincerely, and without any 
tricks or devices, all that passes in the world ; and believe me, 
Sancho, the jumping wench was, and is, Dulcinea del Toboso ; 
and, when we least think of it, we shall see her in her own pro- 
per fonn ; and then Sancho will be convinced of the mistake he 
now lives in." 

" All this may very well be," said Sancho Panza ; " and now I 
begin to believe what my master told of Montesino's cave, where 
he pretends he saw the Lady Dulcinea del Toboso in the very 
same dress and garb I said I had seen her in, when I en- 
chanted her for my own pleasure alone ; whereas your ladyship 
says all this must have been quite otherwise. True it is that 
she I saw was a country wench, for such I took her, and such I 
judged her to be ; and if she was Dulcinea, it is not to be placed 
to my account, nor ought it to lie at my door. It would be fine, 
indeed, if I must be called in question at every turn with, Sancho 
said it, Sancho did it, Sancho came back, and Sancho returned; 
as if Sancho were who they would, and not that very Sancho 
Panza now serving his master through wet and dry, fasting and 



AND HIS SQUIRE SANCHO PANZA. 245 

hunger ; and getting for it more kicks than halfpence. So that 
there is no reason why anybody should fall upon me, since I 
have a good name : and, as I have heard my master say, a good 
name is better than great riches, case me but in this same 
government, and you will see wonders ; for a good squire will 
make a good governor. 

" All that honest Sancho has now said," quoth the duchess, 
" are words of wisdom ; in short, to speak in his own way, 
* a bad cloak often covers a good drinker.' " — " Truly, madam," 
answered Sancho, " I never in my life drank for any bad pur- 
pose ; for thirst it may be I have, for I am no hypocrite ; I drink 
when I have a mind, and when I have no mind, and when it is 
given me, not to be thought shy or ill-bred ; for, when a friend 
drinks to one, who can be so hard-hearted as not to pledge him ? 
But though I put on the shoes, I do not dirty them. Besides, 
the squires of knights-errant most commonly drink water ; for 
they are always wandering about woods, forests, meadows, 
mountains, and craggy rocks, without meeting the poorest 
pittance of wine, though they would give an eye for it." — " I 
believe so too," answered the duchess ; " but, for the present, 
Sancho, go and repose yourself ; we will hereafter talk more at 
large, and order shall speedily be given about casing you, as 
you call it, in the government." 

Sancho again kissed the duchess's hand, and begged of her 
as a favour, that good care might be taken of his Dapple, for 
he was the light of his eyes. "What Dapple?" asked the duchess. 
" My ass," replied Sancho ; " for, to avoid calling him by that 
name, I commonly call him Dapple : and I desired this mistress 
duenna here, when I first came into the castle, to take care of 
him, and she was angry, as if I had said she was ugly or old ; 
though it should be more proper and natural for duennas to 
dress asses than to set off drawing-rooms. Heaven help us ! 
how ill a gentleman of our town agreed with these madams ! " 
— " He was some country clown to be sure," piped out Donna 
Rodriguez; "for had he been a gentleman, and well-born, 
he would have placed them above the horns of the moon." — 
"Enough," said the duchess ; " peace, Donna Rodriguez; you, 



246 THE STORY OF DON QUIXOTE 

Signor Panza, be quiet, and leave the care of making much of 
your Dapple to me ; for, he being a jewel of Sancho's, I will lay 
him upon the apple of my eye." — " It will be sufficient for him 
to lie in the stable," answered Sancho ; " for upon the apple of 
your grandeur's eye, neither he nor I am worthy to lie one single 
moment, and I would no more consent to it, than I would 
poniard myself ; for, though my master says, that in complai- 
sance we should rather lose the game by a card too much than 
too little, yet, when the business is asses and eyes, we should 
keep within measured bounds." — " Carry him, Sancho," said 
the duchess, " to your government, and there you may regale 
him as you please, and set him free from further labour." — 
" Think not, my lady duchess, you have said much," replied 
Sancho, " for I have seen more than two asses go to govern- 
ments, and, if I should carry mine, it would be no such new 
thing." Sancho's reasonings renewed the duchess's laughter 
and satisfaction ; so, dismissing him to his repose, she went to 
give the duke an account of what had passed between them ; 
and the two agreed to contrive to have a jest put upon Don 
Quixote, which should be consonant to the style of knight- 
errantry. 

Great was the pleasure the duke and duchess received from 
the conversation of Don Quixote and Sancho Panza ; and per- 
sisting in the design they had of playing them some tricks, 
which should carry the semblance of adventures, they took a 
hint from what Don Quixote had already told them of Monte- 
sino's cave, to dress up a famous one. But what the duchess 
most wondered at was, that Sancho should be so very simple 
as to believe that Dulcinea del Toboso was enchanted, he him- 
self having been the enchanter and impostor in that business. 
And so, having instructed their servants how they were to 
behave, six days after, they carried Don Quixote a-hunting, with 
a train of hunters and huntsmen not inferior to that of a crowned 
head. They gave Don Quixote a hunting-suit, and Sancho 
another of the finest green cloth ; but Don Quixote would not 
put his on, saying he must shortly return to the severe exercise 
of arms, and that he could not carry wardrobes and sumpters 



AND HIS SQUIRE SANCHO PANZA. 247 

about him. Sancho took what was given him, with a design 
to sell it the first opportunity he should have. 

The expected day being come, Don Quixote armed himself; 
Sancho put on his new suit, and mounted Dapple, whom he 
would not quit, though they offered him a horse ; and so he 
thrust himself amidst the troop of hunters. The duchess issued 
forth magnificently dressed, and Don Quixote, out of pure 
politeness, held the reins of her palfrey, though the duke would 
not consent to it. At last they came to a wood, between two 
very high mountains, where, posting themselves in places where 
the toils were to be pitched, and all the company having taken 
their different stands, the hunt began with a great hallooing and 
noise, insomuch that they could not hear one another, as well for 
the cry of the hounds as the winding of the horns. The duchess 
alighted, and, with a boar-spear in her hand, took her stand in 
a place where she knew wild boars used to pass. The duke 
and Don Quixote alighted also, and placed themselves by her 
side. Sancho planted himself in the rear of them all, without 
alighting from Dapple, whom he durst not quit, lest some mis- 
chance should befall him. Scarcely were they on foot, and 
ranged in order, with several of their servants round them, 
when they perceived an enormous boar pursued by the dogs, 
and followed by the hunters, making towards them, grinding 
his teeth and tusks, and tossing foam from his mouth, Don 
Quixote, seeing him, braced his shield, and, laying his hand to 
his sword, stepped before the rest to receive him. The duke 
did the like, with his javelin in his hand. But the duchess 
would have advanced before them, if the duke had not pre- 
vented her. Only Sancho, at sight of the fierce animal, quitted 
Dapple, ran the best he could, and endeavoured to climb up 
into a tall oak, but could not ; so, being got about half-way up, 
holding by a bough, striving to mount to the top, he was so un- 
fortunate, that the bough broke, and, in tumbling down, he 
remained in the air, suspended by a snag of the tree, without 
coming to the ground. Finding himself in this situation, whilst 
the green loose coat was tearing, and considering that, if the 
furious animal came that way, he should be within his reach, 



248 THE STORY OF DON QUIXOTE 

he began to cry out so loud, and to call for help so violently, 
that all who heard him, and did not see him, thought verily he 
was between the teeth of some wild beast. In short, the tusked 
boar was laid his length by the points of the many boar-spears 
levelled at him ; and Don Quixote, turning his head at Sancho's 
cries, by which he knew him, saw him hanging from the oak with 
his head downward, and close by him Dapple, who deserted 
him not in his calamity. Don Quixote went and disengaged 
Sancho ; who, finding himself freed and upon the ground, fell a 
viewing the rent in the hunting-suit, and it grieved him to the 
soul ; for he fancied he possessed in that suit an inheritance in 
fee-simple. 

They laid the mighty boar across a sumpter-mule, and, cover- 
ing it with branches of rosemary and myrtle, carried it, as the 
spoils of victory, to a large field-tent, erected in the middle of 
the wood ; where they found the tables ranged in order, and 
dinner set out so sumptuous and grand, that it easily discovered 
the greatness and magnificence of the donor. Sancho, showing 
the wounds of his torn garment to the duchess, said, " Had this 
been a hare-hunting, or a fowling for small birds, my coat had 
been safe from the extremity it is now in. I do not understand 
what pleasure there can be in waiting for a beast, who, if he 
reaches you with a tusk, may cost you your life ; nor would I 
have princes and kings run themselves into such dangers, 
merely for their pleasure ; which, methinks, ought not to be so, 
since it consists in killing a creature that has not committed 
any fault." — " You are mistaken, Sancho ; it is quite otherwise," 
answered the duke ; " for the exercise of hunting wild beasts is 
the most proper and necessary for kings and princes of any 
whatever. Hunting is an image of war ■ in it there are strata- 
gems, artifices, and ambuscades ; in it you endure pinching 
cold and intolerable heat ; idleness and sleep are contemned ; 
and the members of the body made active. Therefore, Sancho, 
change your opinion ; when you are a governor, exercise your- 
self in hunting, and you will find your account in it." — " Not so," 
answered Sancho ; " the good governor, and the broken leg, 
should keep at home. It would be fine indeed for people to 



AND HIS SQUIRE SANCHO PANZA. 249 

come fatigued about business, to seek him, while he is in the 
mountains following his recreations ; at that rate the govern- 
ment might go to wreck. In good truth, sir, hunting and pas- 
times are rather for your idle companions than for governors. 
What I design to divert myself with, shall be playing at brag at 
Easter, and at bowls on holidays : as for your huntings, they 
benefit not my condition, nor agree with my conscience." — " I 
wish you may prove as good as you say ; but saying and doing 
are at a wide distance," said the duke. "Be it so," replied 
Sancho ; " the good paymaster is in pain for no pawn ; and 
1 God's help is better than rising early ; ' and ' The body carries 
the legs, and not the legs the body : ' I mean that, with the 
help of God, and a good intention, I shall doubtless govern 
better than a goshawk. Ay, ay, let them put their finger in my 
mouth, and they shall see whether I can bite or no." — " Confusion 
light on thee, Sancho," said Don Quixote. " When will the day 
come, as I have often said, that I shall hear thee utter one cur- 
rent and coherent sentence without proverbs ? I beseech your 
grandeurs, let this blockhead alone : he will grind your souls to 
death, not between two, but between two thousand proverbs, 
introduced as much to the purpose, and as well timed, as a 
fandango at a funeral." 

With these and the like discourses, they left the tent, and 
went into the wood to visit the toils and nets. The day was 
soon spent, and night coming on soon after the twilight, on a 
sudden the wood seemed on fire from all the four quarters ; when 
presently was heard, on all sides, an infinite number of cornets 
and other instruments of war, as if a great body of horse were 
passing through the wood. Next were heard infinite shouts 
after the Moorish fashion, when they are just going to join 
battle. Trumpets and clarions sounded, drums beat, fifes played, 
almost all at once, so fast and without any intermission, that he 
must have had no sense who had not lost it at the confused 
din of so many instruments. The duke was in astonishment, 
the duchess in a fright, Don Quixote in amaze, and Sancho 
Panza in a fit of trembling ; in short, even they who were in 
the secret were terrified, and consternation held them all in 



250 THE STORY OF DON QUIXOTE 

silence. A post-boy, dressed like a demon, passed before them, 
winding, instead of a cornet, a monstrous hollow horn, which 
yielded a hoarse and horrible sound. " So ho ! brother courier," 
quoth the duke, "who are you? whither go you? and what 
soldiers are those who seem to be crossing this wood ? " To 
which the courier answered in a hoarse and dreadful voice, " I 
am in quest of Don Quixote de la Mancha;" and then directing 
his eyes to Don Quixote, said, " To you, Knight of the Lions 
(and may I see you between their paws), the unfortunate but 
valiant knight, Montesmos, sends me, commanding me to tell 
you to wait for him in the very place I meet you in ; for he 
brings with him her whom they call Dulcinea del Toboso, in 
order to instruct you how you may disenchant her : and this 
being all I came for, I must stay no longer." So saying, he 
blew his monstrous horn, turned his back, and away he went, 
without staying for an answer from anybody. Every one ad- 
mired afresh, especially Sancho and Don Quixote ; Sancho, to 
see how, in spite of truth, Dulcinea must be enchanted ; and 
Don Quixote, for not being sure - of the truth of what had hap- 
pened to him in Montesinos's cave. While he stood wrapped up 
in these thoughts, the duke said to him, "Does your worship, 
Signor Don Quixote, design to wait here?" — "Why not?" 
answered he ; "here will I wait intrepid and courageous, though 
all the world should come to assault me." — " Now, for my 
part," said Sancho, " I will no more stay here, than I would in 
Flanders." 

Now was heard a dreadful noise, like that caused by the 
ponderous wheels of an ox-waggon, to which was added another, 
that made ill worse, for it seemed as if there were four battles, 
at the four quarters of the wood, all at one time ; here sounded 
the dreadful noise of artillery ; there were discharged infinite 
volleys of small shot ; the shouts of the combatants seemed to 
be near at hand ; the Moorish cries were heard at a distance. 
In short, the comets, horns, clarions, trumpets, drums, cannon, 
muskets, and, above all, the frightful creaking of the waggons, 
formed all together so confused and horrid a din, that Don 
Quixote had need of all his courage to be able to bear it. But 



AND HIS SQUIRE SANCHO PANZA. 25 1 

Sancho's quite failed him, and he fell down in a swoon upon the 
train of the duchess's robe ; who presently ordered cold water 
to be thrown in his face ; which being done, he recovered his 
senses at the instant one of the creaking waggons arrived at that 
stand. It was drawn by four lazy oxen, all covered with black 
palls, and a large burning torch of wax fastened to each horn. 
At the top of the waggon was fixed an exalted seat, on which 
sat a venerable old man, with a beard whiter than snow itself, 
and so long, that it reached below his girdle. His vestment was 
a long gown of black buckram ; for the waggon was so illu- 
minated, that one might easily discern and distinguish whatever 
was in it. The drivers were two ugly imps, habited in the same 
buckram, and of such hideous aspect, that Sancho, having once 
seen them, shut his eyes close, that he might not see them a 
second time. Now the waggon being come close up to the 
place, the venerable sire raised himself from his lofty seat, and 
standing up, with a loud voice, said, " I am the sage Lirgandeo ; " 
and the waggon went forward without his speaking another 
word. After this there passed another waggon in the same 
manner, with another old man enthroned ; who, making the 
waggon stop, with a voice as solemn as the other's, said, " I am 
the sage Alquife, the great friend to Urganda the unknown," 
and passed on. Then advanced another waggon with the same 
pace; but he who was seated on the throne was not an old 
man, like the two former, but a robust and ill-favoured fellow, 
who, when he came near, standing up, as the rest had done, 
said, with a voice more hoarse and more diabolical, " I am 
Arcalaus the enchanter, mortal enemy of Amadis de Gaul and 
all his kindred ; " and on he went. These three waggons halted 
at a little distance ; the jarring noise of their wheels ceased ; 
and presently was heard another (not noise, but) sound of sweet 
and regular music ; at which Sancho was much rejoiced, and 
took it for a good sign ; wherefore he said to the duchess, from 
whom he had not stirred an inch, "Where there is music, 
madam, there can be no harm." — " Nor where there are lights 
and brightness," answered the duchess. To which Sancho 
replied, " The fire may give light, and bonfires may be bright, 



252 THE STORY OF DON QUIXOTE 

as we see by those that surround us, and yet we may very easily 
be burnt by them ; but music is always a sign of feasting and 
merriment." — " That we shall see presently," said Don Quixote, 
who listened to all that was said ; and he said right, for pre- 
sently a sort of triumphal car, drawn by six mules, advanced 
towards them. On it sat a beautiful maiden of about seventeen ; 
by her side was a veiled figure who, when the car stopped 
opposite to the duke, duchess, and Don Quixote, rose up, an- 
nouncing himself to be Merlin, the great enchanter ; and that 
his errand was to declare how Dulcinea del Toboso, now trans- 
formed into an ugly, rough country girl, was to be restored to 
her original condition and beauty, — namely, by Sancho Panza's 
giving himself three thousand three hundred swinging lashes. 

" I vow," quoth Sancho at this, " I say not three thousand, 
but I will as soon give myself three stabs as three lashes ; if 
Signor Merlin can find out no other way to disenchant the Lady 
Dulcinea del Toboso, enchanted she may go to her grave for 
me." — " I shall take you, Don peasant, stuffed with garlic," 
said Don Quixote, " tie you to a tree, and I say not three thou- 
sand and three hundred, but six thousand six hundred lashes 
will I give you, and those so well laid on, that you shall not be 
able to let them off at three thousand three hundred hard tugs ; 
so answer me not a word, or I will tear out your very soul." 
Which Merlin hearing, said, " It must not be so ; for the lashes 
that honest Sancho is to receive, must be with his good-will, 
not by force, and at what time he pleases ; but he is allowed, if 
he pleases, to save himself the pain of one half of this flogging, 
by suffering the other half to be laid on by another hand, 
although it be somewhat weighty." — " Neither another's hand, 
nor my own, nor one weighty, nor to be weighed, shall touch 
me," said Sancho. " My master, indeed, who is part of the 
Lady Dulcinea, since at every step he is calling her his life, his 
soul, his support, his stay, — he can, and ought to lash himself for 
her, and take all the necessary measures for her disenchant- 
ment ; but for me to whip myself, — no, 1 pronounce it." 

Scarcely had Sancho said this, when the nymph, who sat 
close by the shade of Merlin, standing up, and throwing aside 



AND HIS SQUIRE SANCHO PANZA. 253 

her thin veil, discovered a face, in every one's opinion, more 
than excessively beautiful ; and with a manly assurance, and no 
very amiable voice, addressing herself directly to Sancho Panza, 
said, " O unlucky squire, soul of a pitcher, heart of a cork-tree, 
had you been bidden, you thief of the world, to throw yourself 
headlong from some high tower ; had you been desired, enemy 
of human kind, to eat a dozen of toads, two of lizards, and three 
of snakes ; had anybody endeavoured to persuade you to kill 
your wife and children with some sharp scimitar, — no wonder if 
you had betrayed an unwillingness and aversion ; but to make 
a stir about three thousand and three hundred lashes, which 
every puny school-boy receives every month, it amazes, stupefies, 
and affrights all who hear it, and even of all who shall hereafter 
be told it. Cast, miserable and hard-hearted animal, cast, I 
say, those huge goggle-eyes of thine upon the balls of mine, 
compared to glittering stars, and you will see them weep, drop 
after drop, and stream after stream, making furrows, tracks, 
and paths down the beauteous fields of my cheeks. Relent, 
subtile and ill-intentioned monster, at my blooming youth, still 
in its teens, for I am past nineteen, and not quite twenty, pining 
and withering under the bark of a coarse country wench ; and, 
if at this time I appear otherwise, it is by the particular favour 
of Signor Merlin here present, merely that my charms may 
soften you ; for the tears of afflicted beauty turn rocks into 
cotton, and tigers into iambs." — " What say you to this, San- 
cho ?" asked the duchess. " I say, madam," answered Sancho, 
" what I have already said, that, as to the lashes, I pronounce 
them." — " Renounce, you should say, Sancho," said the duke, 
"and not pronounce." — "Please your grandeur to let me alone," 
answered Sancho ; " for, at present, I cannot stand to mind 
niceties, nor a letter more or less ; for these lashes, which are 
to be given me, or I must give myself, keep me so disturbed, 
that I know not what I say, or what I do. But one thing I 
would fain know from the Lady Dulcinea del Toboso, where 
she learned the way of entreaty she uses. She comes to desire 
me to tear my flesh with stripes, and at the same time calls me 
a soul of a pitcher and untamed beast, with such a string of 



254 THE STORY OF DON QUIXOTE 

ill-names, as is a disgrace to any gentlewoman. What ! does 
she think my flesh is made of brass ? or is it anything to me 
whether she be disenchanted or no ? Instead of bringing a 
basket of fine linen, shirts, night-caps, and socks [though I wear 
none] to mollify me, here is nothing but reproach upon reproach, 
when she might have known the common proverb, that 'An 
ass loaded with gold mounts nimbly up the hill;' and 'Presents 
break rocks;' and 'Pray devoutly, hammer stoutly;' and, 
i One take, is worth two I '11 give thee's.' Then my master, 
instead of wheedling and coaxing me, to make myself of wool 
and carded cotton, says, if he takes me in hand, he will tie me 
naked with a rope to a tree, and double me the dose of stripes. 
Besides, these compassionate gentlefolks ought to consider, 
that they do not only desire to have a squire whipped, but a 
governor, as if it were, like drinking after cherries, a thing of 
course. Let them learn, let them learn in an ill hour, how to 
ask and entreat, and to have breeding ; for all times are not 
alike, nor are men always in a good humour. I am at this time 
just ready to burst with grief to see my green jacket torn ; and 
people come to desire me to whip myself, of my own good-will, 
I having as little mind to it as to turn Indian prince." — " In 
truth, friend Sancho," said the duke, " if you do not relent, and 
become softer than a ripe fig, you finger no government. It 
were good, indeed, that I should send my islanders a cruel flinty- 
hearted governor ; one who relents not at the tears of afflicted 
damsels, nor at the entreaties of wise, awful, and ancient enchan- 
ters and sages. In fine, Sancho, either you must whip yourself, 
or let others whip you, or be no governor." — " My lord," an- 
swered Sancho, " may I not be allowed two days to consider 
what is best for me to do?" — "No, in no wise," answered 
Merlin ; "here, at this instant, and upon this spot, the business 
must be settled ; or Dulcinea must return to Montesinos's cave, 
and to her former condition of a country wench ; or else in her 
present form be carried to the Elysian fields, where she must 
wait till the number of the lashes be fulfilled." — " Come, honest 
Sancho," said the duchess, " be of good cheer, and show grati- 



AND HIS SQUIRE SANCHO PANZA. 255 

tude for the bread you have eaten of your master's, Don Quixote, 
whom we are all bound to serve for his good qualities and his 
high chivalries. Say yes, son, to this whipping bout ; for ' A 
good heart breaks bad fortune,' as you well know." — " Besides," 
interposed Merlin, " believe me, it will do you much good, as 
well for your soul as your body ; for your soul, in regard of the 
charity with which you will perform it ; for your body, because 
I know you to be of a sanguine complexion, and letting out a 
little blood can do you no harm." — " What a number of doctors 
there is in the world ! the very enchanters are doctors," replied 
Sancho. " Eut since everybody tells me so, though I see no 
reason for it myself, I say, I am contented to give myself the 
three thousand three hundred lashes, upon condition that I may 
lay them on whenever I please, without being tied to days or 
times ; and I will endeavour to get out of debt the soonest that 
I possibly can, that the world may enjoy the beauty of the Lady 
Dulcinea del Toboso, since, contrary to what I thought, it 
seems she is in reality beautiful. I article likewise, that I will 
not be bound to draw blood with the whip, and if some lashes 
happen only to fly-flap, they shall be taken into the account. 
Item, if I should mistake in the reckoning, Signor Merlin, who 
knows everything, shall keep the account and give me notice 
how many I want, or have exceeded." — " As for the exceedings, 
there is no need of keeping account," answered Merlin ; " for, 
as soon as you arrive at the complete number, the Lady Dul- 
cinea del Toboso will be instantly disenchanted, and will come 
in a most grateful manner to seek honest Sancho, to thank, 
and even reward him, for the good deed done. So that there 
need be no scruple about the surplusses or deficiencies ; and 
Heaven forbid I should cheat anybody of so much as a hair 
of their head." — " Go to, then," said Sancho ; " I submit to my 
ill-fortune; I say, I accept the penance upon the conditions 
stipulated." 

Scarcely had Sancho uttered these words, when the music 
struck up, a world of muskets were again discharged, and 
Don Quixote clung about Sancho's neck, giving him a thou- 



256 THE STORY OF DON QUIXOTE. 

sand kisses on the forehead and cheeks. The duke and 
duchess, and all the by-standers, gave signs of being mightily 
pleased ; the car began to move on ; and, in passing by, the 
fair Dulcinea bowed her head to the duke and duchess, and 
made a low curtsy to Sancho. And so the sport ended for 
that time. 



CHAPTER XVII. 

The afflicted matron and her bearded ladies — The magic steed. 

?C2S?^)lHE duke had a steward, of a very pleasant and face- 
fi^fi tious wit, who represented Merlin, and contrived 
the whole apparatus of the late adventure, com- 
posed the verses, and made a page act Dulcinea. 
And now, with the duke and duchess's leave, he prepared 
another scene of the pleasantest and strangest contrivance 
imaginable. 

The next day the duchess asked Sancho whether he had 
begun the task of the penance he was to do for the disenchanting 
of Dulcinea. He said he had, and had given himself five 
lashes that night. The duchess desired to know with what he 
had given them. He answered, with the palm of his hand. 
" That," replied the duchess, " is rather slapping than whip- 
ping, and I am of opinion Signor Merlin will hardly be con- 
tented at so easy a ra^e. Honest Sancho must get a rod made 
of briars, or of whipcord, that the lashes may be felt. And 
take notice, Sancho, that works of charity, done faintly and 
coldly, lose their merit, and signify nothing." To which Sancho 
answered, " Give me then, madam, some rod, or convenient 
bough, and I will whip myself with it, provided that it do not 
smart too much ; for I would have your ladyship know that, 
though I am a clown, my flesh has more of the cotton than of the 
rush, and there is no reason I should hurt myself for other folks' 
good." — " You say well," answered the duchess. " To-morrow I 
will give you a whip which shall suit you exactly, and agree with 
the tenderness of your flesh, as if it were its own brother." To 

R 



258 THE STORY OF DON QUIXOTE 

which Sancho said, " Your highness must know, dear lady of 
my soul, that I have written a letter to my wife, Teresa Panza, 
giving her an account of all that has befallen me since I 
parted from her ; here I have it in my bosom, and it wants 
nothing but the superscription. I wish your discretion would 
read it ; for methinks it runs as becomes a governor — I mean, 
in the manner that governors ought to write." — " And who 
indited it?" demanded the duchess. "Who should indite it 
but I myself, sinner as I am?" answered Sancho. " And did 
you write it ? " said the duchess. " No, indeed," answered 
Sancho ; " for I can neither read nor write, though I can set 
my mark." — " Let us see it," said the duchess ; " for no doubt 
you show in it the quality and sufficiency of your genius." 
Sancho pulled an open letter out of his bosom ; and the 
duchess, taking it in her hand, saw the contents were as 
follows : — 

Sancho Panzds Letter to his wife Teresa Panza. 
" If I have been finely lashed, I have been finely mounted : 
if I have got a good government, it has caused me many good 
lashes. This, my dear Teresa, you will not understand at pre- 
sent : another time you will. You must know, Teresa, that I 
am determined you shall ride in your coach, which is some- 
what to the purpose ; for all other ways of going are creeping 
upon all fours like a cat. You shall be a governor's wife : see 
then whether anybody will tread on your, heels. I here send 
you a green hunting-suit, which my lady duchess gave me; fit it 
up, so that it may serve our daughter for a jacket and petticoat. 
They say, in this country, my master Don Quixote is a sensible 
madman, and a pleasant fool, and I am not a whit short of him. 
We have been in Montesinos's cave, and the sage Merlin has 
pitched upon me for the disenchanting of Dulcinea del Toboso, 
who among you is called Aldonza Lorenzo. With three thousand 
and three hundred lashes, lacking five, that I am to give myself, 
she will be as much disenchanted as her own mother. Say nothing 
of this to anybody. A few days hence I shall go to the govern- 
ment, whither I go with an eager desire to make money ; for I 



AND HIS SQUIRE SANCHO PANZA. 259 

am told all new governors go with the self-same intention. I will 
send you word whether you shall come and be with me or no. 
Dapple is well, and sends his hearty service to you. I do not 
intend to leave him, though I were to be made the great Turk. 
The duchess, my mistress, kisses your hands a thousand times : 
return her two thousand ; for nothing costs less, nor is cheaper, 
as my master says, than compliments of civility. I have not 
been blessed with another portmanteau, and another hundred 
crowns, as once before ; but be in no pain, my dear Teresa, 
for he that has the ace in hand is safe. Only one thing troubles 
me ; for I am told, if I once try governing, I shall eat my very 
fingers after it ; and, if so, it would be no very good bargain. 
God make you happy, and keep me to serve you. 
" Your husband, the governor, 

" Sancho Panza. 

" From this castle, the 20th of July, 1614." 

The duchess, having read the letter, said to Sancho, " In two 
things the good governor is a little out of the way : the one in 
saying, or insinuating, that this government is given him on 
account of the lashes he is to give himself ; whereas he knows 
that, when my lord duke promised it him, nobody dreamt of 
any such things as lashes in the world ; — the other is, that he 
shows himself in it very covetous ; and I would not have him 
be griping ; for ' Avarice bursts the bag,' and ' The covetous 
governor does ungoverned justice.' " — " That is not my mean- 
ing, madam," answered Sancho ; "and if your ladyship thinks this 
letter does not run as it should do, it is but tearing it, and writ- 
ing a new one ; and perhaps it may prove a worse, if it be left 
to my noddle." — " No, no," replied the duchess ; " that is a very 
good one, and I will have the duke see it." 

Hereupon they went to a garden, where they were to dine 
that day, and the duchess showed Sancho's letter to the duke, 
who was highly diverted with it. They dined, and after the 
cloth was taken away, and they had entertained themselves a 
good while with Sancho's racy conversation, on a sudden they 
heard the dismal sound of a fife, and also that of a hoarse and 



260 THE STORY OF DON QUIXOTE 

unbraced drum. They all discovered some surprise at the 
doleful harmony, especially Don Quixote, who could not con- 
tain himself in his seat through pure emotion. As for Sancho, 
it is enough to say that fear carried him to his usual refuge, 
which was the duchess's side, or the skirts of her petticoat ; for 
the sound they heard was really and truly most horrid and 
melancholy. While they were thus in suspense, they perceived 
two men enter the garden, clad in mourning-robes, so long and 
extended, that they trailed upon the ground. They came beat- 
ing two great drums, covered also with black. By their side 
came the fife, black and frightful like the rest. These three 
were followed by a personage of gigantic stature, not clad, but 
mantled about, with a robe of the blackest dye, the train whereof 
was of a monstrous length. This robe was girt about with a 
broad black belt, at which there hung an unmeasurable scimitar 
in a black scabbard. His face was covered with a transparent, 
black veil, through which appeared a prodigious long beard 
as white as snow ; and he marched to the sound of the drums, 
with much gravity and composure. In short, his huge bulk, 
his stateliness, his blackness, and his attendants, might very 
well surprise, as they did, all who beheld him, and were not in the 
secret. Thus he came, and kneeled down before the duke, who, 
with the rest, received him standing. But the duke would in no- 
wise suffer him to speak till he rose up. The monstrous spectre 
did so ; and, as soon as he was upon his feet, lifted up his veil, 
exposing to view the horridest, the longest, the whitest, and best 
furnished beard that human eyes till then had ever beheld. 
Then straight he sent forth, from his broad and ample breast, a 
voice grave and sonorous ; and, fixing his eyes on the duke, 
said, " Most mighty and puissant sir, I am called Trifaldin of 
the White Beard : I am squire to the Countess Trifaldi, otherwise 
called the Afflicted Matron, from whom I bring your grandeur a 
message, which is, that your magnificence would be pleased to 
give her permission to enter, and tell her distress, which is one 
of the newest and most wonderful that could ever have been 
imagined ; but, first, she desires to know whether the valorous 
Don Quixote de la Mancha resides in this your castle, in quest 



AND HIS SQUIRE SANCHO PANZA. 261 

of whom she is come on foot (and without breaking her fast) 
from the kingdom of Candaya to this -your territory — a thing 
which ought to be considered as a miracle, or ascribed to the 
force of enchantment. She waits at the door of this fortress, or 
country-house, and only stays for your good pleasure to come 
in." Having said this, he hemmed, stroked his beard from top 
to bottom with both his hands, and, with much tranquillity, stood 
expecting the duke's answer, which was : — " It is now many 
days, honest Squire Trifaldin of the White Beard, since we have 
had notice of the misfortunes of my lady the Countess Trifaldi, 
called the Afflicted Matron. Tell her, stupendous squire, she 
may enter, and that the valiant knight Don Quixote de la 
Mancha is here, from whose generous disposition she may 
safely promise herself all kind of aid and assistance. Tell her 
also from me, that if my favour be necessary, it shall not be 
wanting, since I am bound to it by being a knight ; for to such 
it particularly belongs to protect all sorts of women, especially 
injured and afflicted matrons, such as her ladyship." Trifaldin, 
hearing this, bent a knee to the ground ; and, making a sign to 
the fife and drums to play, walked out of the garden to the same 
tune, and with the same solemnity as he came in, leaving every 
one in admiration at his figure and deportment. 

The duke then, turning to Don Quixote, said, " In short, 
renowned knight, neither the clouds of malice nor those of 
ignorance can hide or obscure the light of valour and virtue. 
This I say, because it is hardly six days that your goodness 
has been in this castle, when, behold, the sorrowful and afflicted 
are already come in quest of you from far distant and remote 
countries, and not in coaches or upon dromedaries, but on foot, 
and fasting, trusting they shall find in that strenuous arm of 
yours the "remedy for their troubles and distresses. Thanks to 
your grand exploits, which run and spread themselves over the 
whole face of the earth." — " I wish, my lord duke," answered 
Don Quixote, " that the same ecclesiastic who the other day 
expressed so much ill-will and so great a grudge to knights- 
errant, were now here, that he might see with his eyes whether 
or no such knights as those are necessary in the world. At 



202 THE STORY OF DON QUIXOTE 

least he would be made sensible that the extraordinarily afflicted 
and disconsolate, in great cases, and in enormous mishaps, 
do not fly for a remedy to the houses of scholars, or to those 
of country parish-priests. Remedy for distress, protection 
of damsels, and consolation of widows, is nowhere so 
readily to be found as among knights-errant ; and that I am 
one, I give infinite thanks to Heaven, and shall not repine at 
any hardship or trouble that can befall me in so honourable an 
exercise. Let this matron come, and make what request she 
pleases ; for I will commit her redress to the force of my arm, 
and the intrepid resolution of my courageous spirit." 

Then again the drums and fifes struck up, and there began 
to enter the garden twelve duennas, divided into two files, all 
clad in large mourning dresses, with white veils of thin muslin, 
so long that only the border of the robe appeared. After these 
came the Countess Trifaldi, whom Squire Trifaldin of the White 
Beard led by the hand. The train or tail (call it which you 
will) of her robe was divided into three corners, supported by 
three pages, clad also in mourning, from which all that saw 
them concluded she was from thence called the Countess 
Trifaldi ; that is to say, the countess of the three skirts. The 
twelve duennas, with the lady, advanced at a procession pace, 
their faces covered w r ith black veils, not transparent like 
Trifaldin's, but so close that nothing could be seen through 
them. Now, upon the appearance of this squadron, the duke, 
duchess, and Don Quixote rose from their seats, as did all 
the rest who beheld the grand procession. The twelve duennas 
halted and made a lane, through which the Afflicted advanced, 
without Trifaldin's letting go her hand ; which the duke, 
duchess, and Don Quixote seeing, they stepped forward about 
a dozen paces to receive her. She, kneeling on the ground, 
with a voice harsh and coarse, said, "May it please your 
grandeurs to spare condescending to do so great a courtesy 
to this your valet — I mean your handmaid. For such is my 
affliction, that I shall not be able to answer as I ought, because 
my strange and unheard-of misfortune has carried away my 
understanding I know not whither ; and sure it must be a vast 



AND HIS SQUIRE SANCHO PANZA. 263 

way off, since the more I seek it the less I find it."—" He 
would want it, lady countess," said the duke, " who could not 
judge of your worth by your person, which, without seeing any 
more, merits the whole cream of courtesy, and the whole 
flower of well-bred ceremonies ; " and, raising her by the hand, 
he led her to a chair close by the duchess, who also received 
her with much civility. Don Quixote held his peace, and 
Sancho was dying with impatience to see the face of the 
Trifaldi, or some one of her many duennas ; but it was not 
possible till they unveiled themselves. 

Now all keeping silence, the Afflicted Matron began in these 
words, " Confident I am, most mighty lord, most beautiful lady, 
and most discreet by-standers, that my most miserableness will 
find in your most valorous breasts a protection no less placid 
than generous and dolorous. But, before it ventures on the 
public stage of your hearing, not to say of your ears, I should be 
glad to be informed whether the refinedissimo knight, Don 
Quixote de la Manchissima, and his squirissimo Panza, be in 
this circle, or company." — " Panza," said Sancho, before any- 
body else could answer, " is here, and also Don Quixotissimo ; 
and therefore, Afflictedissima Matronissima, say what you have 
a mindissima ; for we are all ready and preparedissimos to be 
your servitorissimos." Upon this Don Quixote stood up, and, 
directing his discourse to the Afflicted Matron, said, " If your 
distresses, afflicted lady, can promise themselves any remedy 
from the valour or fortitude of a knight-errant, behold mine, 
which, though weak and scanty, shall all be employed in your 
service. I am Don Quixote de la Mancha, whose function it is 
to succour the distressed of all sorts ; and this being so, as it 
really is, you may, madam, plainly, and without circumlocution, 
tell your griefs ; for you are within hearing of those who know 
how to compassionate, if not redress, them." Which the 
Afflicted Matron hearing, made a show as if she would prostrate 
herself at Don Quixote's feet, and actually did so, and, strug- 
gling to kiss them, said, " I prostrate myself, O invincible 
knight, before these feet and legs, as the bases and pillars of 
knight-errantry!" Then leaving Don Quixote, she turned to 



264 THE STORY OF DON QUIXOTE 

Sancho Panza, and, taking him by the hand, said, " O thou, the 
most trusty squire that ever served knight-errant, whose good- 
ness is of greater extent than the beard of my companion Trifal- 
din, here present, well mayest thou boast that, in serving Don 
Quixote, thou dost serve in miniature the whole tribe of knights 
that ever handled arms in the world ; I conjure thee to become 
an importunate intercessor for me with thy lord, that he would 
instantly favour the humblest and unhappiest of countesses." 
To which Sancho answered, " Whether my goodness, madam, 
be, or be not, as long and as broad as your squire's beard, 
signifies little to me ; but, without these wheedlings and be- 
seechings, I will desire my master, who I know has a kindness 
for me, especially now that he wants me for a certain business, 
to favour and assist your ladyship in whatever he can. Un- 
bundle your griefs, madam, and let us into the particulars, and 
leave us alone to manage, for we shall understand one an- 
other." 

Upon this the Afflicted told her lamentable story, which was, 
that through her heedlessness and misconduct, the beautiful 
heiress of the kingdom of Candaya, of whom she had the care, 
had married a private gentleman of the court. Whereupon her 
mother, the queen, died of vexation, and the young lady herself 
was clapped into prison ; being further punished by an en- 
chanter named Malambruno, who, by his art, turned her into a 
monkey of brass, and her husband into a crocodile of particu- 
larly base metal. This done, he proclaimed that the twain 
should never recover their original condition until the valorous 
knight, Don Quixote, should engage with himself in mortal com- 
bat. " Then," continued she, " he drew out of the scabbard a 
broad and unmeasurable scimitar, and, taking me by the hair 
of my head, he made show as if he would cut my throat, or 
whip off my head at a blow. I was frightened to death, and my 
voice stuck in my throat ; nevertheless, recovering myself as 
well as I could, I used such entreaties as prevailed with him to 
suspend the execution of so rigorous a punishment. Finally, 
he sent for all the duennas of the palace, being those here 
present, and, after having exaggerated our fault, and inveighed 



AND HIS SQUIRE SANCHO PANZA. 265 

against the bad qualities of duennas in general, he said he 
would not chastise us with capital punishment, but with other 
lengthened pains, which would put us to a kind of civil and 
perpetual death ; and, in the very instant he had done speaking, 
we felt the pores of our face open, and a pricking pain all over 
them like the pricking of needles. Immediately we clapped our 
hands to our faces, and found them in the condition you shall 
see presently." 

Then the Afflicted, and the rest of the duennas, lifted up the 
veils which concealed them, and discovered their faces all 
planted with beards, some red, some black, some white, and 
some piebald ; at which sight the duke and duchess seemed to 
wonder, Don Quixote and Sancho were amazed, and all present 
astonished ; and the Trifaldi proceeded, " Thus that wicked 
and evil-minded felon, Malambruno, punished us. Would to 
Heaven he had struck off our heads with his unmeasurable 
scimitar, rather than have obscured the light of our counten- 
ances with these brushes that overspread them ! — for, noble 
lords and lady, if we rightly consider it (and what I am now 
going to say I would speak with rivers of tears, but that the 
consideration of our misfortune, and the seas our eyes have 
already wept, keep them without moisture and dry as beards of 
corn ; and therefore I will speak it without tears. I say then), 
whither can a duenna with a beard go, when her face is become 
a wood?" And so saying, she seemed to faint away. 

Now, when Sancho saw the Afflicted faint away, he said, 
" Upon the faith of an honest man, and by the blood of all my 
ancestors, the Panzas, I swear, I never heard or saw, nor has 
my master ever told me, nor did such an adventure as this ever 
enter into his thoughts. A thousand imps take thee for an en- 
chanter, and a giant, Malambruno ! Couldst thou find no other 
kind of punishment to inflict upon these sinners but that of 
bearding them ? Had it not been better — I am sure it had been 
better for them — to have whipped off half their noses, than to 
have clapped on them beards ? I will lay a wager they have 
not wherewith to pay for shaving." — "That is true, sir," an- 
swered one of the twelve ; l< we have not wherewithal to keep 



266 THE STORY OF DON QUIXOTE 

ourselves clean ; and, therefore, to shift as well as we can, 
some of us use sticking-plasters of pitch, which being applied 
to the face, and pulled off with a jerk, we remain for a while as 
sleek and smooth as the bottom of a stone mortar ; but for all 
that, if we are not relieved by Signor Don Quixote, with beards 
shall we be carried to our graves." — " Aline," said Don Quixote, 
" shall be plucked off in the country of the Moors, rather than 
not free you from yours." 

By this time the Trifaldi was come to herself, and said, " The 
murmuring sound of that promise, valorous knight, in the midst 
of my swoon, reached my ears, and was the occasion of my 
coming out of it, and recovering my senses ; and so once again 
I beseech you, illustrious errant, and invincible sir, that your 
gracious promises may be converted into deeds." — " It shall not 
rest at me," answered Don Quixote : "inform me, madam, what 
it is I am to do ; for my inclination is fully disposed to serve 
you." — " The case is," answered the Afflicted, " that, from hence 
to the kingdom of Candaya, if you go by land, it is five thousand 
leagues, one or two more or less ; but if you go through the air 
in a direct line, it is three thousand two hundred and twenty- 
seven. You must know, also, that Malambruno told me that, 
when fortune should furnish me with the knight our deliverer, 
he would send him a steed — a magic wooden horse, governed by 
a pin he has in his forehead which serves for a bridle ; and he 
flies through the air with such ease and swiftness, that one 
would think he had wings. This same horse, according to 
ancient tradition, was the workmanship of the sage Merlin ; 
and Malambruno procured him by his art." 

To this Sancho said, " For smooth and easy going, commend 
me to my Dapple, though he goes not through the air ; but by 
land, I will match him against all the amblers in the world." 
This set the company a laughing ; and the Afflicted proceeded. 
" Now this horse, if Malambruno intends to put an end to our 
misfortune, will, be here with us within half an hour after it is 
dark." — "And pray," asked Sancho, "how many can ride upon 
this same horse?"— "Two persons," answered the Afflicted; 
" one in the saddle, and the other behind on the crupper ; and 



AND HIS SQUIRE SANCHO PANZA. 267 

generally these two persons are the knight and his squire, when 
there is no stolen damsel in the case." — " I should be glad to 
know. Madam Afflicted," said Sancho, "what this horse's name 
is." — " His name," replied she, " is Clavileno the Winged." — " I 
dislike not the name," replied Sancho ; " but with what bridle> 
or with what halter, is he guided ?"—" I have already told you," 
answered the Trifaldi, " that he is guided by a peg, which the 
rider turning this way and that, makes him go, either aloft in 
the air, or, as it were, brushing the earth, or in the middle 
region." 

" I have a great desire to see him," answered Sancho ; " but to 
think that I will get upon him, either in the saddle, or behind 
upon the crupper, is to look for pears upon an elm-tree. It were 
a good jest, indeed, for me, who can hardly sit my own Dapple, 
though upon a pannel softer than the very silk, to think now 
of getting upon a crupper of boards, without either pillow or 
cushion. In faith, I do not intend to flay myself, to take off any- 
body's beard ; besides, I am out of the question, for I can be 
of no service towards the shaving these beards, as I am for 
the disenchanting of my Lady Dulcinea." — " Indeed but you can, 
friend," answered the Trifaldi, " and of so much service that, 
without you, as I take it, we are likely to do nothing at all." — 
"In the king's name," broke out Sancho, " what have squires to 
'do with their masters' adventures ? Must they run away with the 
fame of those they accomplish, and must we undergo the fatigue? 
I say again, good my lord and lady, my master may go by him- 
self, and much good may it do him ; for I will stay here by my 
lady duchess : and, perhaps, when he comes back, he may find 
Madam Dulcinea's business pretty forward ; for I intend at idle 
and leisure whiles, to give myself such a whipping bout, that not 
a hair shall interpose." 

" For all that, honest Sancho," said the duchess, "you must 
bear him company, if need be, and that at the request of good 
people ; for it would be a great pity the faces of these ladies should 
remain thus bushy through your needless fears." — " In the king's 
name," once more replied Sancho, " were this piece of charity under- 
taken for pretty damsels, or for poor, innocent charity girls, a man 



268 THE STORY OF DON QUIXOTE 

might venture upon some painstaking ; but to endure it to rid 
duennas of their beards, is not to be spoken of. With a murrain 
to them, I had rather see them all bearded from the highest to 
the lowest, and from the nicest to the most slatternly." — "As for 
Sancho" said Don Quixote, "he shall do what I command him. 
I wish Clavileno were once come, and that Malambruno and I 
were at it ; for I am confident no razor would more easily shave 
your ladyship's beard, than my sword shall shave off Malam- 
bruno's head from his shoulders : for though the wicked may- 
prosper, it is but for a time." 

In the meanwhile night came on, and with it the time for 
the arrival of the famous horse Clavileno, whose stay perplexed 
Don Quixote very much. But, behold, on a sudden, four 
savages enter the garden, all clad in green ivy, and bearing on 
their shoulders a large wooden horse. They set him upon his 
legs on the ground, and one of the savages said, " Let him who 
has courage to do it, mount this machine." — " Not I," said 
Sancho ; " for neither have I courage, nor am I a knight." The 
savage proceeded, saying, "And let the squire, if he has one, 
get up behind and trust the valorous Malambruno ; for no other 
body's sword or malice shall hurt him ; and there is no more to 
do but to screw the pin he has in his forehead, when he will 
bear them through the air to the place where Malambruno ex- 
pects them ; but lest the height and sublimity of the way should 
make their heads swim, their eyes must be covered till the horse 
neighs, which is to be the signal of his being arrived at his 
journey's end." This said, leaving Clavileno, with courteous 
demeanour they returned by the way they came. 

As soon as the Afflicted espied the horse, she said to Don 
Quixote, " Valorous knight, Malambruno has kept his word ; 
here is the horse ; our beards are increasing, and every one of 
us, with every hair of them, beseech you to shave and shear us, 
since there is no more for you to do but to mount, with your 
squire behind you, and so give a happy beginning to your new 
journey." — " That I will, with all my heart, and most willingly, 
Madam Trifaldi," replied he, " without staying to procure a 
cushion or put on any spurs ; so great is the desire I have to 



AND HIS SQUIRE SANCHO PANZA. 269 

see your ladyship and all these duennas shaven and clean." — 
" That will not I," quoth Sancho, " on anywise ; and if this 
shaving cannot be performed without my riding behind, let my 
master seek some other squire to bear him company, and these 
madams some other way of smoothing their faces ; for I am no 
wizard to delight in travelling through the air. Besides, what 
will my islanders say when they hear that their governor is 
taking the air upon the wings of the wind ? And another thing ; 
it being three thousand leagues from thence to Candaya, if the 
horse should tire, or the giant be out of humour, we shall be 
half a dozen years in coming back, and by that time I shall 
have neither island nor islanders in the world, that will know 
me." To which the duke replied, " Friend Sancho, the island 
I have promised you is not a floating one, nor will it run away ; 
but what I expect for this government is, that you go with your 
master Don Quixote. Return when you will, you will find your 
island where you left it, and your islanders with the same 
desire to receive you for their governor ; my good-will shall be 
always the same ; and, to doubt this truth, Signor Sancho, 
would be doing a notorious injury to the inclinations I have to 
serve you." — " No more, good sir," said Sancho ; " I am a poor 
squire, and cannot carry so much courtesy on my back. Let 
my master get up ; blindfold me, and good luck to our journey." 
Then Don Quixote, going aside with Sancho among some 
trees in the garden, said to him, " You see, brother Sancho, 
the long journey we are going to undertake, and God knows 
when we shall return, or what convenience and leisure, business 
will afford us ; and therefore my desire is, that you retire to 
your chamber, as if to fetch something necessary for the road, 
and, in a twinkling, give yourself, if it be but five hundred 
lashes, in part of the three thousand three hundred you stand 
engaged for ; for ' Well begun is half ended.' " — " Well, I 
never," said Sancho ; " your worship is stark mad. This is just 
the saying, ' You see I am in haste, and you ask for buttered 
toast' Now that I am just going to sit down upon a bare 
board, would you have me beat myself to a jelly? Verily, 
verily, your worship is in the wrong. Let us now go and trim 



270 . THE STORY OF DON QUIXOTE 

these duennas, and, at my return, I promise you I will make such 
despatch to get out of debt, that your worship shall be con- 
tented." Don Quixote answered, " With this promise then, 
honest Sancho, I am somewhat comforted, and believe you 
will perform it ; for, though you are not over wise, you are 
true blue." — " I am not blue, but brown," quoth Sancho ; "but 
though I were a mixture of both, I would make good my 
promise." 

Upon this they came back, in order to mount Clavileno ; and, 
at getting up, Don Quixote said, " Blindfold yourself, and get 
up, Sancho ; for whoever he be that sends for us from countries 
so remote, he cannot surely intend to deceive us, considering 
the little glory he will get by deceiving those who confide in 
him." — " Let us be gone, sir," said Sancho ; " for the beards and 
tears of these ladies have pierced my heart, and I shall not eat 
a bit to do me good, till I see them restored to their former 
smoothness. Mount you, sir, and blindfold first ; for, if I am 
to ride behind, it is plain he who is to be in the saddle must 
get up first." — " That is true," replied Don Quixote. And, 
pulling a handkerchief out of his pocket, he desired the 
Afflicted to cover his eyes close ; which being done, he un- 
covered them again, and said, " If I remember right, I have 
read in Virgil that story of the wooden horse, dedicated by the 
Greeks to the goddess Pallas, and filled with armed knights, 
who afterwards proved the final destruction of Troy ; therefore 
it will not be amiss to see first what Clavileno has inside him." — 
" There is no need of that," said the Afflicted ; " for I am con- 
fident that Malambruno has nothing of the traitor in him. Your 
worship, Signor Don Quixote, may mount without fear, and 
upon me be it, if any harm happens to you." Don Quixote 
considered, that to talk any more of his security would be a 
reflection upon his courage ; so, without further contest, he 
mounted Clavileno, tried the pin, which screwed about very 
easily ; and, having no stirrups, his legs dangling down, made 
him look like a figure in a Roman triumph, woven in some 
antique piece of Flemish tapestry. 

Much against his will, Sancho got up behind, adjusting him- 



AND HIS SQUIRE SANCHO PANZA. 271 

self the best he could upon the crupper, which he found not 
over soft ; so he begged the duke to accommodate him with 
some pillow or cushion, though it were from the duchess's state 
sofa, the horse's crupper seeming rather to be of marble than 
of wood. To this the Trifaldi replied, that Clavileno would not 
endure any kind of furniture upon him ; so, bidding adieu to 
his friends, Sancho suffered his eyes to be blindfolded. 

Both being now blindfolded, Don Quixote began to turn the 
peg ; and scarce had he put his fingers to it, when all the duennas 
and the standers-by lifted up their voices, saying, " Heaven be 
your guide, valorous knight ; good speed to you, intrepid 
squire. Now, now you mount into the air ; now you begin to 
surprise and astonish all who behold you upon the earth. Sit 
fast, valorous Sancho ; for you totter. Beware lest you fall, for 
your fall will be worse than that of the daring youth, who 
aspired to rule the chariot of his father, the Sun." Sancho 
heard the voices, and, nestling closer to his master, whom he 
embraced with his arms, said, " How can they say, sir, we are 
got so high, when their voices reach us, and they seem to be 
talking here hard by us ?" — "Never mind that, Sancho," said 
Don Quixote ; "for, as these flights are out of the ordinary course, 
you may see and hear anything a thousand leagues off. But do 
not squeeze me so hard, for you will tumble me down ; and, to 
say the truth, I do not see why you are so frightened ; for I 
can safely swear I never was upon the back of an easier-paced 
steed in all the days of my life. Methinks we do not so much as 
stir from our place. Banish fear, friend ; for in short the busi- 
ness goes as it should, and we have the wind in our poop." — 
" That is true," answered Sancho ; " for, on this side, the wind 
blows so strong, that a thousand pair of bellows seem to be 
fanning me." And indeed it was ; for they were airing him with 
several huge pairs of bellows. And so Veil was this adventure 
concerted by the duke, the duchess, and the steward, that 
nothing was wanting to make it complete. Don Quixote now 
feeling the wind, said, " Without all doubt, Sancho, we must 
by this time have reached the second region of the air, where 
the hail and snows are formed. If we go on mounting at this 



272 THE STORY OF DON QUIXOTE 

rate, we shall soon reach the regions of fire ; and I know not 
how to manage this peg, so as not to mount where we shall be 
scorched." 

While they were thus discoursing, some flax, set on fire at the 
end of a long cane, at some distance, began to warm their faces. 
Sancho, feeling the heat, said, " May I be hanged, if we are not 
already at that same fire-place, or very near it, for it has singed 
a great part of my beard ; and, sir, I am just going to peep out, 
and see whereabouts we are." — "By no means," answered Don 
Quixote ; "we must not uncover our faces ; perhaps we are now 
soaring aloft to a certain height, to come souse down upon the 
kingdom of Candaya, like a hawk upon a heron. And, though 
to us it does not seem more than half an hour since we left the 
garden, believe me, we must have made a great deal of way." 

All this discourse of the two heroes was overheard by the 
duke and duchess, and those that were in the garden ; with 
which they were extremely delighted : and being now willing to 
put an end to the adventure, they clapped some lighted flax to 
Clavelino's tail, and that instant he, being full of squibs and 
crackers, blew up with a strange noise, throwing to the ground 
Don Quixote and Sancho, half-singed. By this time the Trifaldi, 
and the whole bearded squadron of duennas, were vanished ; 
while all that remained in the garden, counterfeiting a trance, lay 
flat upon the ground. Don Quixote and Sancho got up in but 
indifferent plight, and, looking about them on all sides, were 
amazed to find themselves in the same garden from whence they 
set out, and to see such a number of folks stretched upon the 
ground. But their wonder was increased when on one side of 
the garden they perceived a great lance sticking in the earth, 
and a smooth piece of white parchment hanging to it by two 
green silken strings, upon which was written : — 

" The renowned Don Quixote de la Mancha has finished and 
achieved the adventure of the Countess Trifaldi, otherwise called 
the Afflicted Matron, and company, only by attempting it. The 
chins of the duennas are smooth and clean ; the princess and 
her husband have recovered their pristine estate ; and when the 



AND HIS SQUIRE SANCHO PANZA. 273 

squirely whipping shall be accomplished, the Avhite dove shall 
be delivered from the cruel pounces of the hawks that pursue 
.her ; for so it is ordained by the sage Merlin, the prince of 
enchanters." 

Don Quixote, having read the inscription on the parchment, 
understood plainly that it spoke of the disenchantment of 
Dulcinea ; so, giving abundance of thanks to Heaven for his 
having achieved so great an exploit with so little danger, he 
went where the duke and duchess lay, being not yet come to 
themselves ; and, pulling the duke by the arm, said, " Courage, 
courage, my good lord ; the adventure is over without damage 
to any one, as yon register plainly shows." The duke, by little 
and little, like one awaking out of a sound sleep, came to him- 
self, and in like manner the duchess, and all that were in the 
garden, with such show of wonder and affright, that what they 
had so well acted in jest, seemed almost to themselves to have 
happened in earnest. The duke read the scroll with his eyes 
half- shut, and presently, with open arms, embraced Don Quixote, 
assuring him he was the bravest knight that ever lived. Sancho 
looked up and down for the Afflicted, to see what kind of face 
she had now she was beardless, and whether she was as hand- 
some without it as her gallant presence seemed to promise ; 
but he was told that, as Clavelino came flaming down through 
the air, and tumbled upon the ground, the whole squadron of 
duennas, with the Trifaldi, disappeared, and their beards 
vanished, roots and all. 

The duchess inquired of Sancho how it fared with him in 
that long voyage ? To whicn Sancho answered, " I perceived, 
madam, as my master told me, that we were passing by the 
region of fire, and I had a mighty mind to peep a little ; and 
though my master, whose leave I asked, would not consent to 
it, I, who have I know not what spice of curiosity, and a desire 
of knowing what is forbidden and denied me, softly, and without 
being perceived by anybody, shoved up the handkerchief near 
my nose, and thence looked down towards the earth, which 
methought was no bigger than a grain of mustard-seed, and the 

S 



274 THE STORY OF DON QUIXOTE 

men that walked upon it little bigger than hazel-nuts. Judge 
you, madam, how high we must have been then." To this, 
replied the duchess, " Take care, friend Sancho, what you say ; 
for it is plain you saw not the earth, but the men only that 
walked upon it ; for if the earth appeared but hke a grain of 
mustard-seed, and each man like a hazel-nut, one man alone 
must needs cover the whole earth." — " That is true," answered 
Sancho, " but, for all that, I had a side view of it, and saw it 
all." — "Take heed, Sancho," said the duchess ; "for, by a side 
view, one does not see the whole of what one looks at."— "I do 
not understand these kinds of views," replied Sancho : " I only 
know it is fit your ladyship should understand that, since we 
flew by enchantment, by enchantment I might see the whole 
earth, and all the men, whichever way I looked ; and, if you do 
not believe this, neither will your ladyship believe me, when I 
tell you that, thrusting up the handkerchief close to my eye- 
brows, I found myself so near the heaven, that from me to it 
was not above a span and a half ; and I can promise you, 
madam, that it is hugeous big : and it so fell out that we passed 
by where the seven little she-goats are ; and, upon my con- 
science, having been in my childhood a goatherd in my own 
country, I no sooner saw them but I had a longing desire to 
divert myself with them a while, and, had I not done it, I verily 
think I should have burst. Well, then, what do I ? why, with- 
out saying a word to anybody, not even to my master, fair and 
softly I slipped down from Clavileno, and played with those she- 
goats, which are like so many violets, about the space of three 
quarters of an hour ; and all the while Clavileno moved not 
from the place, nor stirred a foot." — " And while honest Sancho 
was diverting himself with the goats," said the duke, " how did 
Signor Don Quixote amuse himself?" To which Don Quixote 
answered, "As these and the like accidents are out of the order 
of nature, no wonder Sancho says what he does ; for my own 
part, I can say, I neither looked up nor down, and saw neither 
heaven nor earth, nor sea nor sands. It is very true, I was sensible 
that I passed through the region of the air, and even touched 
npon that of fire ; but, that we passed beyond it, I cannot 



AND HIS SQUIRE SANCHO PANZA. 275 

believe ; for the fiery region being between the sphere of the 
moon, and the utmost region of the air, we could not reach that 
heaven, where the seven goats Sancho speaks of are, without 
being burnt ; and, since we were not burnt, either Sancho lies, 
or Sancho dreams." — " I neither lie nor dream," answered Sancho ; 
" do but ask me the marks of those same goats, and by them 
you may guess whether I speak the truth or not." — " Tell us, 
then, Sancho," said the duchess. " They are," replied Sancho, 
two of them green, two carnation, two blue, and one motley- 
coloured." — " A new kind of goats those same," said the duke. 
"•In our region of the earth we have no such colours — I mean, 
goats of such colours." — " The reason is plain," quoth Sancho : 
" there must be a difference between the goats of heaven and 
those of earth." 

This was the conclusion of the adventure of the Afflicted 
Matron, which furnished the duke and duchess with matter of 
laughter for their whole lives, and Sancho something to relate 
for ages, had he lived so long ; and Don Quixote, coming to 
Sancho, whispered him in the ear, saying, " Sancho, since you 
would have us believe all you have seen in heaven, I expect you 
should believe what I saw in Montesinos's cave ; I say no 
more." 




CHAPTER XVIII. 

Sancho made governor of the island of Barataria — His master 
gives him instruction for his conduct — Sancho departs for 
his government — Don Quixote's adventure with the cats. 

HE duke and duchess were so satisfied with the happy 
success of the adventure of the Afflicted, that they 
resolved to carry the jest still further, seeing how 
fit a subject they had to pass it on for earnest ; so, 
having projected the scheme, and given the necessary orders to 
their servants and vassals, how they were to behave to Sancho 
in his government of the promised island, the day following 
Clavileno's flight the duke bid Sancho prepare, and get himself 
in readiness to go to be a governor ; for his islanders already 
wished for him, as for rain in May. Sancho made his bow, and 
said, " Ever since my descent from heaven, and since from its 
lofty summit I beheld the earth, and observed it to be so small, 
the great desire I had of being a governor is, in part, cooled ; 
for what grandeur is it to command on a grain of mustard- 
seed ? or what dignity or dominion is there in governing half a 
dozen men no bigger than hazel-nuts, for methought the whole 
earth was nothing more ? If your lordship would be pleased to 
give me but some small portion of heaven, though it were no 
more than half a league, I would accept it with a better will 
than the biggest island in the world." — " Look you, friend 
Sancho," answered the duke, " I can give away no part of heaven, 
though no bigger than one's nail; for God has reserved the 
disposal of those favours and graces in His own power. But what 
I can give you, I give you ; and that is an island ready-made, 



THE STORY OF DON QUIXOTE. 277 

round and sound, and above measure fruitful and abundant ; 
where, if you manage dexterously, you may with the riches of 
the earth purchase the treasures of heaven." — " Well then," 
answered Sancho, "let this island come ; for it shall go hard 
but I will be such a governor that, in spite of rogues, I shall go 
to heaven ; and think not it is out of covetousness that I for- 
sake my humble cottage and aspire to greater things, but for 
the desire I have to taste how it relishes to be a governor." — 
"If once you taste it, Sancho," said the duke, "you will eat 
your fingers after it, so very sweet a thing it is to command 
and be obeyed. Sure I am, when your master comes to be an 
emperor, — for doubtless he will be one in the way his affairs are, 
— no one will be able to wrest it from him, and it will grieve and 
vex him to the heart to have been so long a time without being 
one." — " Sir," replied Sancho, " I am of opinion it is good to 
command, though it be but a flock of sheep." — " You are quite 
right, Sancho," answered the duke ; " and I doubt not you will 
prove such a governor as your wit seems to promise. Let this 
suffice for the present, and take notice that to-morrow, without 
fail, you shall depart for the government of the island, and this 
evening you shall be fitted with a convenient garb, and with all 
things necessary for your departure." — " Let them dress me," 
said Sancho, " how they will ; for, howsoever I go clad, I shall 
still be Sancho Panza." — " That is true," said the duke ; " but 
our dress must be suitable to our employment ; for it would be 
absurd for a lawyer to be habited like a soldier, or a soldier like 
a priest." 

"You, Sancho, must go dressed partly like a scholar, and 
partly like a captain ; for, in the island I give you, arms are as 
necessary as letters, and letters as arms." — " Letters," answered 
Sancho, " I know but little of ; for I can scarce say the A, B, C ; 
and, as to arms, I shall handle such as are given to me till I 
fall, and God be my guide." 

By this time Don Quixote came up, and learning how sud- 
denly Sancho was to depart to his government, took him by the 
hand, and carried him with him to his chamber, to give him 
advice how to behave himself in his employment. Being come 



278 THE STORY OF DON QUIXOTE 

into the apartment, he shut the door after him, and, almost by- 
force, made Sancho sit down by him, and, with a composed 
voice, said to him, " Infinite thanks give I to Heaven, friend 
Sancho, that, first, and before I have met with any good luck 
myself, good fortune has gone forth to meet and receive you. 
You, who, in respect to me, without doubt are a blockhead, 
without rising early or sitting up late, and without taking any 
pains at all, by the air alone of knight-errantry breathing on 
you, see yourself, without more ado, governor of an island, as 
if it were a matter of nothing. All this I say, O Sancho, that 
you may not ascribe the favour done you to your own merit, 
but give thanks, first to Heaven, and, in the next place, to the 
grandeur inherent in the profession of knight-errantry. Now, 
be attentive, son, to me, who will be your counsellor, your north- 
star and guide to conduct and steer you safe into port out of 
that tempestuous sea, wherein you are going to be engulfed ; 
for offices and great employments are nothing else but a pro- 
found gulf of confusions. 

" First, my son, fear God, for to fear Him is wisdom. 
Secondly, consider who you were, and endeavour to know your- 
self ; for that will keep you from puffing yourself up, like the 
frog who strove to equal herself to the ox. Be not ashamed, 
Sancho, of the meanness of your family ; for when people see 
that you yourself are not ashamed, nobody else will endeavour 
to make you so ; and, if by chance one of your kindred come to 
see you when you are in your island, do not despise or affront 
him, but receive, cherish, and make much of him. 

" If you take your wife along with you, teach, instruct, and 
polish her from her natural rudeness ; for, many times, all that 
a discreet governor can acquire is dissipated and lost by an ill- 
bred and foolish woman. 

" Be not governed by the law of your own will, which is wont 
to bear much sway with the ignorant, who presume upon being 
discerning. 

" Let the tears of the poor find more compassion, but not more 
justice, from you, than the informations of the rich. 

" Endeavour to sift out the truth amidst the presents and pro- 



AND HIS SQUIRE SANCHO PANZA. 279 

mises of the rich, as well as among the sighs and importunities 
of the poor. 

" When equity can, and ought to take place, lay not the whole 
rigour of the law upon the delinquent ; for the reputation of the 
rigorous judge is not better than that of the compassionate 
one. 

" If perchance the rod of justice be warped a little, let it not 
be by the weight of a gift, but that of mercy. 

" If it happens that the cause of your enemy comes before you, 
fix not your mind on the injury done you, but upon the merits 
of the case. 

" Let not private affection blind you in another man's cause ; 
for the errors you shall commit thereby are often without remedy ; 
and, if there should be one, it will be at the expense both of your 
reputation and fortune. 

rt Him you are to punish with deeds, do not evil-entreat with 
words ; for the pain of the punishment is enough for the wretch 
to bear, without the addition of ill language. 

" In the criminal, who falls under your jurisdiction, consider 
the miserable man subject to the condition of our depraved 
nature ; and, as much as in you lies, without injuring the con- 
trary party, show pity and clemency ; for, though the attributes 
of God are all equal, that of His mercy is more pleasing and 
attractive in our eyes than that of His justice. 

" If, Sancho, you observe these precepts and these rules, your 
days will be long, and your fame eternal, your recompense full, 
and your felicity unspeakable. You shall match your children 
as you please ; they and your grandchildren shall inherit 
titles ; you shall live in peace and in favour with all men ; and, 
at the end of your life, death shall find you in a sweet and 
matured old age, and your eyes shall be closed by the tender 
and pious hands of your grandchildren's children. 

" What I have hitherto taught you, Sancho, are documents for 
the adorning your mind. Listen now to those which concern the 
adornments of the body. 

" As to what concerns the government of your own person and 
family, Sancho, in the first place, I enjoin you to be cleanly, 



280 THE STORY OF DON QUIXOTE 

and to pare your nails, and not let them grow, as some do, 
whose ignorance has made them believe that long nails beautify 
the hands : a monstrous abuse ! 

" Go not loose and unbuttoned, Sancho ; for a slovenly dress 
betokens a careless mind. 

" Find out discreetly what your office may be worth ; and, if it 
will afford your giving liveries to your servants, give them such 
as are decent and useful, rather than showy and modish : and 
divide between your servants and the poor, — I mean, if you can 
keep six pages, clothe but three, and three of the poor ; and 
thus you will have pages for heaven and for earth too — a new 
way of giving liveries, which the vainglorious never thought of. 

" Eat neither garlic nor onion, lest people guess, by the smell, 
at your peasantry. Walk leisurely, and speak deliberately ; but 
not so as to seem to be hearkening to yourself; for all affecta- 
tion is bad. 

" Eat little at dinner, and less at supper ; for the health of the 
whole body is tempered in the forge of the stomach. 

" Be temperate in drinking, considering that excess of wine 
neither keeps secrets, nor performs promises. 

" Take heed, Sancho, not to chew on both sides of your mouth 
at once. 

" Likewise, Sancho, intermix not in your discourse that multi- 
tude of proverbs you are wont ; for, though proverbs are short 
sentences, you often drag them in so by the head and shoulders, 
that they seem rather cross purposes than sentences." — "There's 
no help for that," replied Sancho ; " for I know more proverbs 
than will fill a book, and when I talk, they crowd so thick into 
my mouth, that they jostle which shall get out first. But, for 
the future, I will take heed to utter such as become the gravity 
of my place ; for ' In a plentiful house supper is soon dressed ;' 
and ' He that cuts, does not deal ; ' and ' He that has the ace 
is safe ; ; and ' To spend and to spare, require judgment.'" — " So, 
so, Sancho," said Don Quixote ; " I am warning you to abstain 
from proverbs, and in an instant you pour forth a string of them, 
which square with what we are upon as much as ' Over the 
hills and far away.' Look you, Sancho, I do not say a proverb 



AND HIS SQUIRE SANCHO PANZA. 28 1 

is amiss, when skilfully applied ; but to accumulate, and string 
them at random, renders a discourse flat and low. 

" When you are on horseback, sit not leaning your body back- 
wards over your saddle, nor carry your legs stiff, stretched, and 
straddling from the horse's sides, nor yet dangle them so as] if 
you were still upon Dapple ; for sitting a horse makes some 
look like gentlemen, others like grooms. 

" Let your sleep be moderate, for he who is not up with the 
sun does not enjoy the day ; and take notice, O Sancho, that 
diligence is the mother of good-fortune, and sloth, her opposite, 
never reached the end of a good wish. 

" Your dress shall be breeches and stockings, a long coat, and 
a cloak somewhat longer ; but for trousers, or trunk-hose, think 
not of them, for they are not becoming either to cavaliers or 
governors. 

" This is all that occurs to me at present, by way of advice to 
you : as time goes on, and according to the occasions, such shall 
my instructions be, provided you take care to inform me of the 
state of your affairs." — " Sir," answered Sancho, " I see very 
well that all your worship has been saying is good and profit- 
able ; but what good will it do me, if I remember nothing of it ? 
You had therefore better write it down for me ; for though I can 
neither read nor write, I can give it to my chaplain, who will 
put me in mind of it, if need be." — "Ah ! sinner that I am !" 
answered Don Quixote ; " how ill does it look in a governor not 
to be able to read or write ! for you must know, O Sancho, that for 
a man not to know how to read, or to be left-handed, implies 
one of these two things, either that he sprang from very mean 
and low parents, or that he was so untoward and perverse, that 
no good could be beaten into him. It is a very great defect 
you carry with you, and therefore I would by all means have 
you learn to write your name, if possible." — " I can sign my 
name very well," answered Sancho ; " lor when I was steward of 
the brotherhood in our village, I learned to make certain charac- 
ters, like the marks upon a wool-pack, which I was told spelt 
my name ; but, at the worst, I can pretend my right hand is 
lame, and make another sign for me ; for there is a remedy for 



2S2 THE STORY OF DON QUIXOTE 

everything but death ; and I, having the command of the staff, 
will do what I please. Besides, he whose father is mayor, &c., 
you know, and I, being a governor, am surely more than mayor. 
Let them come and play at bo-peep. Ay, ay, let them slight 
and backbite me ; ' They may come for wool, and be sent back 
shorn ; ' and ' Whom God loves, his house smells savoury to him ; ' 
and 'The rich man's blunders pass for maxims in the world ;' and 
I, being a governor, and consequently rich, and bountiful to 
boot, as I intend to be, nobody will see my defects. No, no, 
' Get yourself honey, and clowns will have flies.' 'As much as you 
have, so much you are worth,' said my grannam ; and 'There is 
no revenging yourself upon a rich man. ' " — " Oh, confound you !" 
cried out Don Quixote at this instant ; " sixty thousand imps 
take you and your proverbs ! You have been stringing them this 
full hour, and putting me to the rack with every one of them. 
Take my word for it, these proverbs will one day bring you to the 
gallows : upon their account your subjects will strip you of 
your government, or at least conspire against you. Tell me 
where find you them, ignorant ? or how apply you them, dunce ? 
For my own part, to utter but one and apply it properly, I sweat 
and labour as if I were digging." 

" I vow, master of mine," replied Sancho, " your worship com- 
plains of very trifles. Why the dickens are you angry that I 
make use of my own goods ? for I have no other, nor any stock, 
but proverbs upon proverbs ; and just now I nave four that pre- 
sent themselves pat to the purpose, and fit like plums ^n a pun- 
nett ; but I will not produce them." — "Well, God speed you, 
Sancho," said his master, " and govern you in your government, 
and deliver me from a suspicion I have, that you will turn the whole 
island topsy-turvy ; which I might prevent by letting the duke 
know what you are, and telling him that all that little carcase of 
thine is nothing but a sackful of proverbs and sly remarks." — 
" Sir," replied Sancho, " if your worship thinks I am not fit for 
this government, I renounce it from this moment ; for I love the 
least speck of my soul better than my whole body ; and plain 
Sancho can live as well upon bread and onion as governor 
Sancho can upon capon and partridge. If your worship 



AND HIS SQUIRE SANCHO PANZA. 283 

reflects, you will find it was your worship that put me upon the 
scent of governing ; for I know no more of the government of 
islands than an ostrich ; and, if you fancy the devil will have 
me, if I am a governor, I had rather go Sancho to heaven than 
a governor to hell." — "Sancho," said Don Quixote, "for those 
last words of yours, I think you deserve to be governor of a 
thousand islands. You are good-natured, without which no 
knowledge is of any value. Pray to God, and endeavour not to 
err in your intention, — I mean, always take care to have a firm 
purpose and design of doing right in whatever business occurs ; 
for Heaven constantly favours a good intention. And so let us 
go to dinner ; for I believe the lord and lady stay for us." 

At length Sancho set out with a great number of followers. 
He was dressed in a wide surtout of murry-coloured camblet, 
with a cap of the same, and mounted upon a mule. Behind 
him, by the duke's order, was led his Dapple, with ass-like fur- 
niture, all of flaming fine silk. Sancho turned back his head 
every now and then to look at his ass, with whose company he 
was so delighted, that he would not have changed conditions 
with the emperor of Germany. 

At taking leave of the duke and duchess, he kissed their 
hands, and begged his master's blessing ; which he gave with 
tears, and Sancho received blubbering. But scarce was he 
departed, when Don Quixote began to regret his own solitary 
condition ; and, had it been possible for him to have taken the 
government from his squire, he would certainly have done it. 
The duchess consoled him as well as she could ; and then 
proposed they should sup and go to bed betimes, as his 
yesterday ? s journey must have somewhat fatigued him." — " Not 
at all, madam," answered Don Quixote ; " for I can safely 
swear to your excellency, that in all my life I never bestrid a 
soberer beast, nor of an easier pace, than Clavileno ; and I 
cannot imagine what possessed Malambruno to part with so 
swift and so gentle a steed, and burn him so, without more 
ado." When the knight had supped, he retired to the chamber 
alone, not consenting to let anybody come in to wait upon him. 
He shut his door after him ; and, by the light of two wax 



284 THE STORY OF DON QUIXOTE 

candles, pulled off his clothes ; when, at stripping off his stock- 
ings, forth burst, not sighs, nor groans, but some two dozen 
stitches of a stocking, which made it resemble a lattice-window. 
The good gentleman was extremely afflicted, and would have 
given an ounce of silver to have had there a drachm of green 
silk, — green, because his stockings were green. Luckily, how- 
ever, Sancho had left him behind a pair of travelling boots, 
which he resolved to put on next day. Finally, he laid himself 
down, pensive and heavy-hearted, as well for lack of Sancho, 
as for the irreparable misfortune of his stocking, whose stitches 
he would gladly have darned, though with silk of another 
colour. He put out the lights ; the weather was hot, and he 
could not sleep ; so he got out of bed, and opened the case- 
ment of a window, which looked into a fine garden, and, at 
opening it, he perceived and heard somebody walking and 
talking in the garden. " Press me not to sing," said the voice, 
" for you know ever since this stranger came into this castle, 
and my eyes beheld him, I cannot sing, but weep. Besides, 
this new ^neas, who is arrived in my territories to leave me 
forlorn, sleeps on, and awakes not to hear it." — "Do not fancy 
so, dear Altisidora," answered the other ; " for even now I heard 
him open his casement, and, without doubt, he must be awake. 
Sing, my afflicted creature, in a low and sweet voice, to the 
sound of your harp." 

Whereupon the damsel sang a song of such tender love 
towards Don Quixote de la Mancha, as alarmed the knight 
exceedingly, and caused him to exclaim to himself, " Why am 
I so unhappy a knight-errant that no damsel can see me but 
that she must presently fall in love with me ? But 'tis all in 
vain. Dulcinea's I am, and must be, come what will." This 
said, he slammed to his casement, and threw himself heavily on 
his bed, where his perplexed thoughts would not suffer him to 
sleep. Morning came at last, and he got up, putting on his 
chamois leather doublet, and his travelling boots to conceal the 
misfortune of his stocking. He threw his scarlet mantle over 
his shoulders, and clapped on his head a green velvet cap, 
trimmed with silver lace. Then hanging his trusty blade in his 



AND HIS SQUIRE SANCHO PANZA. 285 

shoulder-belt, he marched towards the antechamber, where the 
duke and duchess expected him. As he passed through a 
gallery, Altisidora and her companion stood waiting for him ; 
and on his approach, the former pretended to faint away. On 
seeing this, the knight begged that a lute might be placed in 
his room at night, with the help of which he would console the 
poor damsel the best he was able — a request that greatly de- 
lighted the duchess, and the young ladies, who determined to 
put some merry trick upon him. 

When night came, he found the lute accordingly ready for 
him. He tuned it, hummed, cleared his voice, and then sang 
hoarsely a song which he had himself composed in the course 
of the day. The duke, the duchess, and almost all the folks 
of the castle, stood listening to him, when, on a sudden, from 
an open gallery over Don Quixote's window, a rope was let 
down, to which above a hundred bells were fastened ; and, 
immediately after, was emptied a great sackful of cats, which 
had smaller bells tied to their tails. The noise of the jangling 
bells and mewing of the cats was so great, that the duke and 
duchess, though the inventors of the jest, were frightened at it. 
Don Quixote himself was in a panic ; while fortune so ordered 
it that two or three of the cats got in at his room window, and 
scoured about, from side to side, like mad, extinguishing the 
lights in the room, in their attempts to escape. Don Quixote 
drew his sword ; and, making thrusts at the casement, cried 
out, " Avaunt, ye malicious enchanters, ye rabble of wizards ! 
for I am Don Quixote de la Mancha, against whom your 
wicked arts are of no force or effect." Then, turning to the 
cats, who were running about the room, he gave several cuts 
at them. They took to the casement, and got out, all but one, 
which, finding itself hard pressed by the knight's slashing, flew 
at his face and seized him by the nose with its claws and teeth, 
the pain whereof made him roar as loud as he could. The 
duke and duchess, hearing this, ran up in haste ; and, opening 
the door with a master-key, found the poor gentleman striving 
with all his might to make the cat let go. The duke hastened 
to help him ; but Don Quixote exclaimed, " Let no one take 



286 THE STORY OF DON QUIXOTE. 

him off ; leave me to battle it with this demon, this wizard, this 
enchanter ; for I will make him know the difference between 
him and me, and who Don Quixote de la Mancha is." But the 
cat growled on, and kept her hold until the duke forced open 
her claws, and threw her out of the window. 

The knight remained with his face like a sieve, and his nose 
not over whole, yet still much dissatisfied that they would not 
let him finish his combat with the enchanter. They plastered 
up his wounds for him ; and then, w T ith a profound sigh, he 
stretched himself full length upon his bed, where we will leave 
him for a while, and return to the fortunes of his squire. 



CHAPTER XIX. 

Sancho, as governor — A state-dinner— Sancho in a rage — How 
he administered the law. 




N due time Sancho, with all his attendants, arrived at 
a town that contained about a thousand inhabitants 
one of the best the, duke had, and called, as he was 
told, the island of Barataria. At his arrival near 
the gates of the town, the magistrates came out to receive him, 
the bells rang, the people gave demonstrations of a general joy, 
and, with a great deal of pomp, conducted him to the great 
church to give thanks to God. Presently after, with certain 
ridiculous ceremonies, they presented him the keys of the town, 
and admitted him as perpetual governor of the island of 
Barataria. The garb, the beard, the thickness and shortness 
of the new governor, held in admiration all that were not in 
the secret, and even those that were, who were not a few. In 
fine, as soon as they had brought him out of the church, they 
carried him to the tribunal of justice, placed him in the chair ; 
and the duke's steward said to him, " It is an ancient custom 
here, my Lord Governor, that he who comes to take possession 
of this famous island is obliged to answer a question put to 
him, which is to be somewhat intricate and difficult. By his 
answer, the people are enabled to measure their new governor's 
understanding, and, accordingly, are either glad or sorry for his 
coming." 

While the steward was saying this, Sancho was staring at 
some capital letters written on the wall opposite to his chair ; 
and because he could not read, he asked what that painting 



288 THE STORY OF DON QUIXOTE 

was on the wall. He was answered, " Sir, it is there written on 
what day your honour took possession of this island ; and the 
inscription runs thus : — This day (such a day of the month and 
year) Signor Don Sancho Panza took possession of this island; 
and long may he enjoy it." — " And pray," said he, " who is it 
they call Don Sancho Panza?" — "Your lordship," answered 
the steward ; " for no other Panza besides him now in the chair 
ever came into this island." — "Take notice, brother," replied 
Sancho, " Don does not belong to me, nor ever did to any of my 
family. I am called plain Sancho Panza ; my father was a 
Sancho, and my grandfather a Sancho, and they were all Panzas, 
without any addition of dons or donnas : and I fancy there 
are more dons than stones in this island. But enough ; on 
with your question, master steward, and I will answer the best 
I can." 

At this instant two men came into the court, the one clad 
like a country-fellow, and the other like a tailor, with a pair of 
shears in his hand ; and the tailor said, " My Lord Governor, I 
and this countryman come before your worship, by reason this 
honest man came yesterday to my shop (for saving your pre- 
sence, I am a tailor), and, putting a piece of cloth into my 
hands, asked me, ' Sir, is there enough of this to make me 
a cap?' I, measuring the piece, answered 'Yes.' Now he 
imagining, as I imagine (and I imagined right), that doubtless 
I had a mind to cabbage some of the cloth, grounding his con- 
ceit upon his own knavery, and upon the common ill opinion 
had of tailors, bid me view it again, and see if there was not 
enough for two. I guessed his drift, and told him there was. 
My gentleman, persisting in his knavish intention, went on in- 
creasing the number of caps, and I adding to the number of 
'Yes's,' till we came to five caps ; and even now he came for 
them. I offered them to him, and he refuses to pay me for the 
making, and pretends I shall either return him his cloth, or pay 
him for it." — "Is all this so, brother?" demanded Sancho. 
" Yes," answered the man ; " but, pray, my Lord, make him pro- 
duce the five caps he has made me." — " With all my heart," 
answered the tailor ; and pulling his hand from under his cloak, 



AND HIS SQUIRE SANCHO PANZA. 289 

he showed the five caps on the ends of his fingers and thumb, 
saying, " Here are the five caps this honest man would have me 
make ; and not a shred of the cloth is left." Sancho set himself 
to consider a little, and then said, " I am of opinion this suit 
may be decided off-hand ; and therefore I pronounce that the 
tailor lose the making, and the countryman the stuff, and that 
the caps be confiscated to the use of the poor ; and there is an 
end of that." 

The next that came before him were two old men, the one 
with a cane in his hand for a staff ; and he without the staff 
said, " My Lord, some time ago I lent this man ten crowns of 
gold, upon condition he should return them on demand. I let 
him alone a good while without asking for them; but, at length, 
thinking he was negligent of the payment, I asked him more 
than once or twice for my money, and he not only refuses pay- 
ment, but says I never lent him any such sum, and if I did, 
that he has already paid me ; and I having no witnesses of the 
loan, nor he of the payment, I entreat your worship will take 
his oath ; if he will swear he has returned me the money, I ac- 
quit him from this minute." — " What say you to this, old gentle- 
man with the staff ? " said Sancho. To which the old fellow 
replied, " I confess, my Lord, he did lend me the money ; and, 
if your worship pleases to hold down your wand of justice, I 
will swear I have really and truly returned it him." The gover- 
nor held down the wand, and the old fellow gave the staff to his 
creditor to hold while he was swearing ; and presently laying 
his hand upon the cross of the wand, said, it was true indeed 
he had lent him those ten crowns he asked for, but that he had 
restored them to him into his own hand ; and because, he sup- 
posed, he had forgotten it, he was every moment asking him for 
them. Which the governor seeing, he asked the creditor what 
he had to answer to what the other had alleged. He replied, 
he did not doubt but his debtor had said the truth, and that he 
himself must have forgotten when and where the money was 
returned ; and that from thenceforward he would never ask 
him for it again. The debtor took his staff again, and, bowing 
his head, went out of court. Sancho seeing this, and that he 



2pO THE STORY OF DON QUIXOTE 

was gone without more ado, and observing also the patience of 
the creditor, inclined his head upon his breast, and continued, 
as it were, full of thought a short space ; then, lifting up his 
head, he ordered the old man with the staff, who was already 
gone, to be called back. He was brought back accordingly ; 
and Sancho, said " Give me that staff, honest friend, for I have 
occasion for it." — " With all my heart/' answered the old fellow, 
and delivered it into his hand. Sancho took it, and giving it to 
the other old man, said, " Go about your business, for you are 
paid." — " I, my Lord ? " answered the old man ; " what ! is this 
cane worth ten golden crowns ? " — " Yes," said the governor, 
"or I am the greatest dunce in the world; and now it shall 
appear whether I have a head to govern a whole kingdom." 
Straight he commanded the cane to be broken before them all ; 
which being done, there were found in the hollow of it ten crowns 
of gold. All were struck with admiration, and took their new 
governor for a second Solomon. They asked him whence he 
had collected that the ten crowns were in the cane. He 
answered that, upon seeing the old man give it his adversary 
while he was taking the oath, and swearing that he had really 
and truly restored them into his hands, and, when he had done, 
ask for it again, it came into his imagination that the money in 
dispute must be in the hollow of the cane. At length, both the 
old men marched off, the one ashamed, and the other satisfied ; 
the by-standers were surprised, and the secretary, who minuted 
down the words, actions, and behaviour of Sancho Panza, could 
not determine with himself whether he should set him down for 
a wise man or a fool. 

They conducted Sancho Panza from the court of justice to a 
sumptuous palace, where, in a great hall, was spread an elegant 
and splendid table ; and, as soon as Sancho entered the hall, 
the waits struck up, and in came four pages with water to wash 
his hands, which he received with great gravity. The music 
ceasing, he sat down at the upper end of the table ; for there 
was but that one chair, and no other napkin or plate. A per- 
sonage, who afterwards proved to be a physician, placed him- 
self, standing, on one side of him, with a whalebone rod in his 



AND HIS SQUIRE SANCHO PANZA. 291 

hand, and then they removed a very fine white cloth, which 
covered several fruits and a great variety of eatables. One, 
who looked like a student, said grace, and a page put a laced 
bib under Sancho's chin. Another, who played the sewer's 
part, set a plate of fruit before him ; but scarce had he eaten a 
bit, when he of the wand touching the dish with it, the waiters 
snatched it away from before him with great haste, but the 
sewer set another dish of meat in its place. Sancho was going 
to try it, but before he could reach or taste it, the wand had 
been already at it, and a page whipped that away also with as 
much speed as he had done the fruit. Sancho, seeing it, was 
surprised, and, looking about him, asked if this repast was to 
be eaten like a show of sleight of hand ? To which he of the 
wand replied, "My Lord Governor, I am a physician, and have 
an appointed salary in this island for serving the governors of 
it in that capacity ; and I consult their healths much more than 
my own, studying night and day, and sounding the governor's 
constitution, the better to know how to cure him when he is 
sick. My principal business is, to attend at his meals, to let him 
eat of what I think is most proper for him, and to remove from 
him whatever I imagine will do him harm. Therefore I ordered 
the dish of fruit to be taken away, as being too moist ; and that 
other dish of meat I also ordered away, as being too hot, and 
having in it too much spice, which increases thirst." — "Well 
then," said Sancho ; " yon plate of roasted partridges, which 
seemed to me to be very well seasoned, will they do me any 
harm ?" To which the doctor answered, "My Lord Governor 
shall not eat a bit of them while I have life." — " Pray, why 
not?" asked Sancho. The physician answered, "Because 
Hippocrates says, * All repletion is bad, but that of partridges 
the worst of all.'" — "If it be so," said Sancho, "pray see, 
Signor Doctor, of all the dishes upon this table, which will do 
me most good, and which least harm, and let me eat of it, with- 
out conjuring it away with your wand ; for, by the life of the 
governor, I am dying with hunger ; and to deny me my victuals 
is rather the way to shorten my life than to lengthen it." — 
" Your worship is in the right, my Lord Governor," answered 



292 THE STORY OF DON QUIXOTE 

the physician ; " and therefore, I am of opinion, you should not 
eat of yon stewed rabbits ; of that veal, perhaps you might pick a 
bit, were it not ' a-la-daubed ; ' but as it is, not a morsel." Said 
Sancho, " That great dish, smoking yonder, I take to be an 
' olla-podrida,' and amidst the diversity of things contained in 
it, surely I may light upon something both wholesome and 
toothsome." — " Absit — away with it," said the doctor ; "far be 
such a thought from us ; there is not worse nutriment in the 
world than your ' olla-podridas.' Therefore, what I would 
advise at present for Signor Governor's eating to preserve his 
health, is, about an hundred of rolled-up wafers, and some thin 
slices of marmalade, that may sit easy upon the stomach and 
help digestion." Sancho, hearing this, threw himself backward 
in his chair, and, surveying the doctor from head to foot, with 
a grave voice, asked him his name, and where he had studied. 
To which he answered, " My Lord Governor, I am called Dr 
Pedro Positive ; I am a native of a place called Take-Yourself- 
Away, lying between Caraquel and Almoddobar del Campo, on 
the right hand, and have taken my doctor's degree in the Uni- 
versity of Ossuna." To which Sancho, burning with rage, 
answered, " Why then, Signor Dr Pedro Positive, native of 
Take-Yourself-Away, lying on the right hand as we go from 
Caraquel to Almoddobar del Campo, graduate in Ossuna, get 
out of my sight this instant, or I will take a cudgel, and, be- 
ginning with you, will so lay about me, that there shall not be 
left one physician in the whole island, at least of those I find to 
be ignorant ; as for those that are learned, prudent, and discreet, 
I shall respect and honour them as divine persons. And I say 
again, let Pedro Positive quit my presence, or I shall take this 
chair I sit upon, and fling it at his head ; and if I am called to 
an account for it before the judge, when I am out of office, I 
will justify myself by saying I did good service in killing a bad 
physician, the hangman of the public. And give me something 
to eat, or take back your government ; for an office that will 
not find a man in victuals is not worth two beans." 

The doctor was frightened at seeing the governor in such a 
rage, and would have taken himself out of the hall, had not the 



AND HIS SQUIRE SANCHO PANZA. 293 

sound of a post-horn been heard that instant in the street. The 
sewer going to the window, and looking out, came back, saying, 
"A courier is arrived from my lord duke, and must certainly 
have brought some despatches of importance." The courier 
entered in a hurry, and, pulling a packet out of his bosom, 
delivered it into the governor's hands ; and Sancho gave it to the 
steward, bidding him read the superscription, which was this, 
"To Don Sancho Panza, Governor of the island of Barataria, to 
be delivered into his own hands, or into his secretary's." Which 
Sancho hearing, said, "Which is my secretary here?" One 
of those present answered, " I am he, sir ; for I can read and 
write, and am a Biscainer." — " With that addition," said Sancho, 
"you may very well be secretary to the emperor himself; open 
the packet, and see what it contains." The new-born secretary 
did so, and having cast his eye over the contents, said it was a 
business which required privacy. Sancho commanded the hall 
to be cleared, and that none should stay but the steward and 
the sewer; and all the rest, with the physician, being withdrawn, 
the secretary read the following letter : — 

"It is come to my knowledge, Signor Don Sancho Panza, 
that certain enemies of mine, and of the island, intend one of 
these nights to assault it furiously. You must be watchful and 
diligent, that they may not attack you unprepared. I am in- 
formed also, by trusty spies, that four persons in disguise are 
got into the island, to take away your life, because they are in 
fear of your abilities. Have your eyes about you, and be careful 
who is admitted to speak to you, and be sure eat nothing sent 
you as a present. I will take care to send you assistance, if you 
are in any want of it. And, upon the whole, I do not doubt but 
you will act as is expected from your judgment. — Your friend, 

" The Duke. 

" From this place, the 16th of August, 
at four in the morning." 

Sancho was astonished, and the rest seemed to be so too ; 
-and, turning to the steward, he said, "The first thing to be 



294 THE STORY OF DON QUIXOTE 

done, is, to clap Dr Positive into prison ; for if anybody has a 
design to kill me, it is he, and that by a lingering and the worst 
of deaths, by hunger. Said the steward, " It is my opinion your 
honour would do well to eat nothing of all this meat here upon 
the table ; for it was presented by some nuns ; and there is no 
knowing what mischief they may have been hatching." — " I 
grant it," said Sancho ; " so for the present give me only a piece 
of bread, and some four pound of grapes : no poison can be 
conveyed in them ; for, in short, I cannot live without eating ; 
and, if we must hold ourselves in readiness for these wars that 
threaten us, it will be necessary we should be well victualled. 
And you, secretary, answer my lord duke, and tell him his com- 
mands shall be punctually obeyed, just as he gives them : and 
present my humble service to my lady duchess, and beg her 
not to forget sending my letter and the bundle by a special 
messenger to my wife Teresa Panza. And, by the way, you 
may put in a service to my master Don Quixote de la Mancha, 
that he may see I am grateful bread ; and, like a good secre- 
tary, and a staunch Biscainer, you may add what you please, 
or what will turn to best account. And, pray, take away the 
cloth, and give me something to eat ; for I will deal well enough 
with all the spies, murderers, and enchanters that shall attack 
me or my island." 

Now a page came in, and said, " Here is a countryman about 
business, who would speak with your lordship concerning an 
affair, as he says, of great importance."—" A strange case this," 
said Sancho, " that these men of business should be so silly as 
not to see that such hours as these are not proper for business ! 
What ! belike we who govern and are judges, are not made of 
flesh and bones, like other men ? Are we made of marble 
stone, that we must not refresh at times when necessity requires 
it ? Upon my conscience, if my government lasts, as I have a 
glimmering it will not, I shall hamper more than one of these 
men of business. Bid this honest man come in, for this once ; 
but first see that he be not one of the spies, or one of my 
murderers." — " No, my Lord," answered the page ; " he looks 
like a pitcher-souled fellow ; and I know little, or he is as harm- 



AND HIS SQUIRE SANCHO PANZA. 295 

less as a piece of bread." — " You need not fear," said the 
steward, "while we are present." — " Is it not possible, sewer," 
asked Sancho, " now that the Dr Pedro Positive is not here, 
for me to eat something of substance and weight, though it 
were but a luncheon of bread and an onion ? " — " To-night 
at supper," replied the sewer, " amends shall be made for the 
defects of dinner, and your lordship shall have no cause to 
complain." — " Heaven grant it," answered Sancho, who soon 
made an end of the countryman's business ; sending him off 
briskly, and calling him " saucy bumpkin," "impudent scoun- 
drel," " rascal," " idiot," "Don Lubberly ; " for the fellow, to carry 
out the duke's jest, had come coolly asking the governor for six 
hundred crowns, to set up his son's housekeeping, a demand 
that nearly drove Sancho, who was not in the secret, frantic. 

The man got him out with all speed ; and when Dr Pedro 
returned to the hall, Sancho, whose temper was still hot, turned to 
him, saying, "I now plainly perceive that judges and governors 
ought to be made of brass, if they would be insensible of impor- 
tunities of your men of business, who, being intent upon their 
own affairs alone, come what will of it, at all hours, and at all 
times, will needs be heard and despatched ; and if the poor 
judge does not hear and despatch them, either because he 
cannot, or because it is not the proper time for giving them 
audience, presently they murmur and traduce him, gnawing his 
very bones, and calumniating him and his family. Foolish 
man of business, impertinent man of business, be not in such 
haste ; wait for the proper season and conjuncture for negotia- 
tion ; come not at dinner-time, nor at bed-time, for judges are 
made of flesh and blood, and must give to their nature what 
their nature requires : except only poor I, who do not so by 
mine, thanks to Signor Pedro Positive of Take- Your self- Away 
here present, who would have me die of hunger, and affirms 
that this kind of dying is in order to live. I wish the same life 
to him and all those of his tribe — I mean, bad physicians — for 
good ones deserve palms and laurels." All who knew Sancho 
Panza were in admiration to hear him talk so well, and the 
result was, that Dr Pedro promised he should sup that night, 



296 THE STORY OF DON gUIXOTE 

though it were contrary to all the aphorisms of Hippocrates. 
With this the governor rested satisfied, expecting with great im- 
patience the coming of the night, and the hour of supper ; and 
though time, to his thinking, stood stock-still, yet at length the 
wished-for hour came, when they gave him some cow-beef, 
hashed with onions, and calves' feet, somewhat of the stalest, 
boiled. However, he laid about him with more relish than if 
they had given him all sorts of niceties ; and, in the midst of 
supper, turning to the doctor, he said, " Look you, master doctor, 
henceforward take no care to provide me your nice things to 
eat, nor your titbits ; for it will be throwing my stomach quite 
off the hinges, which is accustomed to goat's-flesh, cow-beef 
and bacon, with turnips and onions ; and if perchance you give 
it court-kickshaws, it receives them with squeamishness, and 
sometimes with loathing. What master sewer here may do, is 
to get me some of those eatables you call your ' olla-podridas,' 
and the stronger they are the better ; for so it be an eatable, I 
shall take it kindly, and will one day make you amends : and 
let nobody play upon me ; for either we are, or we are not : let 
us all live and eat together in peace and good friendship ; for 
when ' God sends daylight, it is day for everybody.' I will 
govern this island without losing my own right or taking 
away another man's ; and let every one keep a good look-out, 
and mind each man his own business ; for I would have them 
to know, that if they put me upon it, they shall see wonders." — 
" Certainly, my Lord Governor," said the sewer, " there is reason 
in all your worship says, and I dare engage, in the name of all 
islanders of this island, that they will serve your worship with 
all punctuality, love, and good-will ; for your sweet way of 
governing from the very first leaves us no room to do or to 
think anything that may redound to the disservice of your wor- 
ship." — " I believe it," answered Sancho, " and they would be 
fools if they did or thought otherwise. And I tell you again to 
take care for my sustenance, and for my Dapple's, which is 
what is most important in this business ; and when the hour 
comes, we will go the round ; for it is my intention to clear this 
island of all manner of vagabonds, idlers, and sharpers. For 



AND HIS SQUIRE SANCHO PANZA. 297 

you must understand, friends, that idle and lazy people in a 
commonwealth are the same as drones in a bee-hive, which 
eat the honey that the industrious bees lay up in store. My 
design is to protect the peasants, preserve to the gentry their 
privileges, reward ingenious artists, and, above all, to have 
regard to religion, and to the honour of the clergy. What 
think ye of this, my friends ?" — " My Lord Governor," answered 
the steward, " speaks so well, that I wonder to hear a man so 
void of learning as your worship, who, I believe, cannot so 
much as read, say such and so many things, all so instructive, 
and so far beyond all that could be expected from your wor- 
ship's former understanding by those who sent us, and by us 
who are come hither. But every day produces new things : 
jests turn into earnest, and jokers are joked upon." 

The night came, and the governor having supped with the 
licence of Signor Dr Positive, they prepared for going the 
round, and he set out with the secretary, the steward, the sewer, 
and the historiographer, who had the care of recording his 
actions, together with sergeants and notaries enough to have 
formed a tolerable battalion. In the midst of them marched 
Sancho, with his white rod of office ; and having traversed a few 
streets, they heard the clashing of swords. They hasted to the 
place, and found two men fighting ; who, seeing the officers 
coming, desisted, and one of them said, " Help, in the name of 
God and the king ! Is it permitted in this town to rob folks, 
and set upon them in the streets ?" — " Hold, honest man," said 
Sancho, " and tell me what is the occasion of this fray ; for I am 
the governor." The other replied, " My Lord Governor, your 
honour must understand that this gentleman is just come from 
winning, in that gaming-house over the way, above a hundred 
crowns ; and I, being present, gave judgment in his favour, in 
many a doubtful point, against the dictates of my conscience. 
Up he got with the winnings, and, when I expected he would 
have given me a crown at least, by way of present, as is the 
usage and custom among gentlemen of distinction to such as I 
am, who stand by, ready at all risks to back unreasonable 
demands and to prevent quarrels, he pocketed up his money, 



298 THE STORY OF DON QUIXOTE 

and went out of the house. I followed him in dudgeon, and, 
with good words and civil expressions, desired him to give me 
though it were but a crown piece — since he knows I am a man 
of honour, and have neither office nor benefice, my parents 
having brought me up to nothing, and left me nothing — and this 
knave would give me but half-a-cro\vn. Judge, my Lord Gover- 
nor, how little shame, and how little conscience he has. But, 
in faith, had it not been for your honour's coming, I would have 
made him disgorge his winnings and have taught him how 
many ounces go to the pound." — " What say you to this, 
friend?" asked Sancho. The other answered, that all his 
adversary had said was true, and he did not intend to give him 
more than a half-crown, for he was often giving him something ; 
and, for proof of his being an honest man, and no cheat, as the 
other alleged, there could be no stronger proof than his refusal 
to comply with his demand ; for cheats are always tributaries 
to the lookers-on, who know them. " That is true," said the 
steward ; " be pleased, my Lord Governor, to adjudge what shall 
be done with these men." — " What shall be done is this," 
answered Sancho : " You, master winner, good, bad, or indiffer- 
ent, give your hackster here immediately ten crowns, and pay 
down six more for the poor prisoners ; and you, sir, who have 
neither office nor benefice, and live without any employment in 
this island, take these ten crowns instantly, and some time to- 
morrow get out of this island for ten years, on pain, if you 
transgress, of finishing your banishment in the next life, for I 
will hang you on a gallows, or at least the hangman shall do it 
for me : and let no man reply, lest I punish him severely." 
The one disbursed ; the other received : the one went out of the 
island ; the other went home to his house : and the governor 
said, " It shall cost me a fall, or I will demolish these gaming- 
houses ; for I have a suspicion that they are very prejudicial." 
And now up came a servant, having laid hold of a young man, 
and said, " My Lord Governor, this youth was coming towards 
us ; but, as soon as he ' perceived it was the round, he faced 
about, and began to run like a stag — a sign he must be some 
delinquent. I pursued him, and, had he not stumbled and 



AND HIS SQUIRE SANCHO PANZA. 299 

fallen, I should never have overtaken him." — "Why did you fly, 
young man ?" asked Sancho. The youth replied, " My Lord, to 
avoid answering the multitude of questions officers are wont to 
ask." — "What trade are you?" said Sancho. "A weaver," 
answered the youth. " And what do you weave ? " asked Sancho. 
" Iron heads for spears, an' it please your worship." — " You are 
pleasant with me, and value yourself upon being a joker," said 
Sancho ; " it is very well ; and whither were you going ?" — " To 
take the air, sir," replied the lad. " And pray, where do people 
take the air in this island ?" said Sancho. "Where it blows," 
answered the youth. " Good," said Sancho ; " you answer to 
the purpose ; you are a discreet youth. But now, make account 
that I am the air, and that I blow in your poop, and drive you 
to gaol. Here, lay hold on him, and carry him to prison ; I will 
make him sleep there to-night without air." — "Your honour can 
no more make me sleep there than you can make me a king," 
replied the youth. " Why cannot I make you sleep in prison ? " 
demanded Sancho; "have I not power to confine or release 
you, as I please?" — "How much power soever your worship 
may have, you have not enough to make me sleep in prison." — 
" Why not ? " replied Sancho. — " Away with him immediately, 
where he shall see his mistake with his own eyes ; and I will 
sconce the gaoler in the penalty of two thousand crowns, if he 
suffers you to stir a step from the prison." — " All this is matter 
of laughter," answered the youth ; " the business is, I defy all 
the world to make me sleep this night in prison." — " Tell me, 
baboon," quoth Sancho ; " have you some angel to deliver you, 
and unloose the fetters I intend to have clapped on you ? " — " My 
Lord Governor," answered the youth, with an air of pleasantry, 
"let us abide by reason, and come to the point. Supposing 
your worship orders me to gaol, to be loaded with chains and 
fetters, and clapped into the dungeon, with heavy penalties laid 
upon the gaoler, if he lets me stir out ; and let us suppose 
these orders punctually obeyed ; yet, for all that, if I have no 
mind to sleep, but to keep awake all night, without so much as 
shutting my eyelids, can your worship, with all your power, 
make me sleep whether I will or no ? " — " No, certainly," said 



300 THE STORY OF DON QUIXOTE. 

the secretary; "and the man has carried his point." — " So that," 
said Sancho, "you would forbear sleeping, only to have your 
own will, and not out of pure contradiction to mine?" — "No, 
my Lord/' said the youth, "not even in thought." — " Then good- 
bye to you." quoth Sancho ; " go home to sleep, and I wish you a 
good night's rest ; but I will advise you, for the future, not to 
be so jocose with officers of justice ; for you may meet with one 
that may lay the joke over your noddle." 




CHAPTER XX. 

Sanchds wife and daughter — A bundle of letters. 

^HE duchess, proceeding in her design of making sport 
with Don Quixote, at this time despatched the page, 
who had acted the part of Dulcinea in the project of 
her disenchantment, to Teresa Panza, with her hus- 
band's letter (for Sancho was so taken up with his government, 
that he had quite forgotten it), with another from herself, and a 
large string of rich corals by way of present. 

Now the page was very discreet and sharp, and, being ex- 
tremely desirous to please his lord and lady, he departed with a 
very good will for Sancho's village. Being arrived near it, he 
saw some women washing in a brook, of whom he demanded 
if they could tell him whether one Teresa Panza, wife of one 
Sancho Panza-, squire to a knight called Don Quixote de la 
Mancha, lived in that town. At which question, a young girl, 
who was washing, started up and said, " That Teresa Panza is 
my mother, and that Sancho my father, and that knight our 
master." — " Come then, damsel," said the page, " and bring me 
to your mother ; for I have a letter and a present for her 
from that same father of yours." — " That I will with all my 
heart, sir," answered the girl, who seemed to be about 
fourteen years of age : and, leaving the linen she was 
washing to one of her companions, she ran skipping along, 
bare-legged, before the page's horse, saying, " Come along, sir ; 
for our house stands just at the entrance of the village, and there 
you will find my mother in pain enough for not having heard 
any news of my father this great while." Jumping, running, and 
capering, the girl came to the village, and before she got into 



302 THE STORY OF DON QUIXOTE 

the house, she called aloud at the door, "Come forth, mother 
Teresa, come forth, come forth ! for here is a gentleman who 
brings letters and other things from my good father." At 
which voice her mother Teresa Panza came out, spinning a dis- 
taff full of tow, having on a gray petticoat, so short, that it looked 
as if it had been docked at the pocket-hole, with a gray boddice 
also, and her under-sleeves hanging about it. She was not very 
old, though she seemed to be above forty, but was strong, hale, 
sinewy, and hard as a hazel-nut. She, seeing her daughter, and 
the page on horseback, said, " What is the matter, girl ? what 
gentleman is this?" — "It is an humble servant of my Lady 
Donna Teresa Panza," answered the page. And so saying, he 
flung himself from his horse, and, with great respect, went and 
'kneeled before the Lady Teresa, saying, " Be pleased, Signora 
Donna Teresa, to give me your ladyship's hand to kiss as being 
the wife of Signor Don Sancho Panza, sole governor of the 
island of Barataria." — "Ah, dear sir, forbear, do not so," answered 
Teresa ; "for I am no court dame, but a poor country-woman, 
daughter of a ploughman, and wife of a squire-errant, and not of 
any governor at all." — "Your ladyship," answered the pnge, " is 
the most worthy wife of an arch-worthy governor ; and, for 
proof of what I say, be pleased, madam, to receive this letter, and 
this present." Then he pulled out of his pocket a string of 
corals, each bead in gold ; and putting it about her neck, said, 
" This letter is from my lord governor, and another that I have 
here, and these corals, are from my lady duchess, who sends 
me to your ladyship." Teresa was amazed, and her daughter 
neither more nor less ; and the girl said, " May I be whipped, if 
our master Don Quixote be not at the bottom of this business, 
and has given my father the government, or earldom, he so often 
promised him." — " It is even so," answered the page ; " and for 
Si r nor Don Quixote's sake, my lord Sancho is now governor of 
the island of Barataria, as you will see by this letter." — " Pray, 
young gentleman," said Teresa, " be pleased to read it ; for, 
though I can spin, I cannot read a tittle." — " Nor I either," 
added Sanchia ; "but stay a little, and I will go call somebody 
that can." — " There is no need of calling anybody," replied the 



AND HIS SQUIRE SANCHO PANZA. 303 

page ; " for though I cannot spin, I can read, and will read it." 
So he read it. Then he pulled out that from the duchess, which 
was as follows : — 

"Friend Teresa, 
"The good qualities of your husband Sancho induced me to 
desire the duke, my spouse, to give him the government of one 
of the many islands he has. I am informed he governs like 
any hawk ; at which I and my lord duke are mightily pleased ; 
and I give great thanks to Heaven that I have not been de- 
ceived in my choice of him for the said government. For let 
me tell Madam Teresa, it is a difficult thing to find a good 
governor now-a-days, and I trust I may be as good, as Sancho 
governs well. I send you hereby, my dear, a string of corals 
set in gold : I wish they were of oriental pearl ; but, ' Whoever 
gives thee an egg, has no mind to see thee dead.' The time 
will come when we shall be better acquainted and converse 
together, and who knows what may happen. Commend me to 
Sanchia, your daughter. I am told the acorns of your town 
are very large ; pray, send me some two dozen of them ; for I 
shall esteem them very much, as coming from your hand : and 
write to me immediately, advising me of your health and wel- 
fare ; and if you want anything, you need but open your mouth, 
and your mouth shall be measured. — Your loving friend, 

" The Duchess." 

" Ah ! " said Teresa, at hearing the letter, " how good, how 
plain, how humble a lady ! Sec here how this good lady, though 
she be a duchess, calls me friend, and treats me as if I were 
her equal. As to the acorns, sir, I will send her ladyship a 
pocketful, and such as, for their bigness, people may come to 
see and admire from far and near. And for the present, 
Sanchia, see and make much of this gentleman : take care of 
his horse, and bring some new-laid eggs out of the stable, and 
slice some rashers of bacon, and let us entertain him like any 
prince ; for the good news he has brought us deserves no less ; 
and, meanwhile, I will step and carry my neighbours the news 



304 THE STORY OF DON QUIXOTE 

of our joy, especially to the priest, and master Nicholas the 
barber, who are, and always have been, your father's great 
friends." — "Yes, mother, I will," answered Sanchia ; "but mind 
you, I must have half that string of corals ; for I do not take 
my lady duchess sent it all to you." — " It is all for you, 
daughter," answered Teresa ; " but let me wear it a few days 
about my neck ; for truly methinks it cheers my very heart." — 
" You will be no less cheered," said the page, " when you see 
the bundle I have in this portmanteau : it is a habit of super- 
fine cloth, which the governor wore only one day at a hunting- 
match, and has sent it all to Signora Sanchia." 

Teresa now went out of the house with the letters, the beads 
about her neck ; and accidentally meeting the priest, with 
Sampson Carrasco, she began to dance, and say, " In faith, we 
have no poor relations now ; we have got a government : ay, 
ay, let the proudest gentlewoman of them all meddle with me ; 
I will make her know her distance." — " What is the matter, 
Teresa Panza ? what nonsense is this ? and what papers are 
those ?" demanded the priest. " No other nonsense" said she, 
"but that these are letters from duchesses and governors, and 
these about my neck are true coral, with some of beaten gold ; 
and I am a governess." — " Heaven help us, Teresa," .replied 
they; "we know not what you mean." — "Believe your own 
eyes," answered Teresa, giving them the letters. The priest 
read them so as that Sampson Carrasco heard the contents ; 
and Sampson and the priest stared at each other, as surprised 
at what they read. The bachelor demanded, who had brought 
those letters. Teresa answered, " If they would come home 
with her to her house, they should see the messenger, and that 
he had brought her another present, worth twice as much." 
The priest took the corals from her neck, and, being satisfied 
they were right, began to wonder afresh, and said, " I know not 
what to say, or what to think of these letters, and these pre- 
sents. On one hand I see and feel the fineness of these corals, 
and on the other hand I read, that a duchess sends to desire a 
dozen or two of acorns." Said Carrasco, " Let us go and see the 
bearer of this packet, who may give us some light into these 



AND HIS SQUIRE SANCHO PANZA. 305 

difficulties which puzzle us." They did so, and Teresa went 
back with them. 

They found the page sifting a little barley for his horse, and 
Sanchia cutting a rasher to fry, and pave it with eggs, for the 
page's dinner ; whose good appearance pleased them both very 
much. After they had saluted him, and he them, Sampson 
desired him to tell them news both of Don Quixote and Sancho 
Panza. To which the page answered, " That Signor Sancho 
Panza is a governor, there is no manner of doubt ; and of a 
place containing above a thousand inhabitants. As ta the 
acorns, I say, my lady duchess is so humble and affable, that 
her sending to beg acorns of a countrywoman is nothing ; for 
ere now, she has sent to borrow a comb of one of her neigh- 
bours." 

While they were in the midst of this discourse, in came 
Sanchia with a lapful of eggs, and said to the page, " Pray, sir, 
does my father, now he is a governor, wear trunk-hose ?" — " I 
never observed that," answered the page ; " but doubtless he 
does." — " Well ! " replied Sanchia, " what a sight must it be to 
see my father with laced breeches ! Is it not strange, that ever 
since I was born I have longed to see my father with his 
breeches laced to his girdle ? " — u I warrant you will, if you 
live," answered the page. The priest and the bachelor easily 
perceived that the page spoke jestingly ; but the fineness of the 
corals and the hunting-suit which Sancho had sent (for Teresa 
had already showed them it) undid all. Nevertheless, they 
could not forbear smiling at Sanchia's longing, and more when 
Teresa said, " Master priest, do so much as inquire if anybody be 
going to Madrid or Toledo, who may buy me a farthingale com- 
pletely made, and fashionable, and one of the best that is to be 
had ; for verily, verily, I intend to honour my husband's govern- 
ment as much as I can ; and, if they vex me, I will get me to 
this court myself, and ride in my coach as well as the best of 
them there ; for she who has a governor for her husband, may 
very well have one, and maintain it too." — " Ay, marry," said 
Sanchia, " and I would it were to-day rather than to-morrow, 
though folks that saw me seated in that coach with my lady 



306 THE STORY OF DON QUIXOTE 

mother should say, 'Do but see such-a-one, daughter of such-a- 
one, how she sits in state, and lolls in her coach like the pope's 
lady ! ' But let them jeer, so they trudge in the dirt, and I ride 
in my coach with my feet above the ground. Say I well, 
mother ? " — " Ay, mighty well, daughter," answered Teresa ; 
%l and my good man Sancho foretold me all this, and even 
greater good luck ; and, you shall see, daughter, it will never 
stop till it has made me a countess ; for to be lucky, the whole 
business is to begin ; and as I have often heard your good father 
say, Avho, as he is yours, is also the father of proverbs, 'When 
they give you a heifer, make haste with the halter ; ' so, when a 
government is given you, seize it ; when they give you an earl- 
dom, lay your claws on it ; and when they whistle to you with 
a good gift, snap at it. No, no ; sleep on, and do not answer to 
the lucky hits and the good fortune that stand calling at the 
door of your house." 

The priest, hearing this, said, " I cannot believe but that all 
of this race of the Panzas were born with a bushel of proverbs 
in their inside ; I never saw one of them who did not scatter 
them about, at all times, and in all the discourses they ever 
held." — " I believe so too," said the page, " for my lord gover- 
nor Sancho utters them at every step ; and though many of 
them are wide of the purpose, still they please, and my lady 
duchess and the duke commend them highly." — "You persist 
then in affirming, sir," said the bachelor, " that this business of 
Sancho's government is real and true, and that these presents 
and letters are really sent by a duchess?" — "All I know of myself, 
gentlemen," answered the page, " is, that I am a real messenger, 
and that Signor Sancho Panza actually is a governor; and 
that my lord duke and my lady duchess can give, and have 
given, the said government ; and I have heard it said, that the 
said Sancho Panza behaves himself most notably in it. But 
come one of you gentlemen along with me, and you shall see 
with your eyes what you will not believe by the help of your 
ears." — " That jaunt is for me," said Sanchia : " take me behind 
you, sir, upon your nag; for I will go with all my heart to see my 
honoured father." — " The daughters of governors," said the 



AND HIS SQUIRE SANCHO PANZA. 307 

page, " must not travel alone, but attended with coaches, and 
litters, and good store of servants." — " Nonsense," answered 
Sanchia, " I can travel as well upon an ass's colt as in a coach ; 
I am none of your tender, squeamish folks." — " Peace, wench," 
said Teresa ; " you know not what you say, and the gentleman 
is in the right ; for, ' According to reason, each thing in its 
season : ' when it was Sancho, it was Sancha ; and when gover- 
nor, madam. Said I amiss?" — "Madam Teresa says more 
than she imagines," said the page ; " and, pray give me to eat, 
and despatch me quickly ; for I intend to return home this 
night." To which the priest said, " Come, sir, and do penance 
with me ; for Madam Teresa has more good-will than good 
cheer, to welcome so worthy a guest." The page refused at 
first, but at length thought it most for his good to comply. 
The bachelor offered Teresa to write answers to her letters ; 
but she would not let him meddle in her matters, for she looked 
upon him as somewhat of a wag ; and she gave a roll of bread 
and a couple of eggs to a young noviciate friar, who wrote for 
her two letters, one for her husband, and the other for the 
duchess, both of her own inditing. 

But to return to our governor. The steward spent the re- 
mainder of the night, after going the round, in writing to his lord 
and lady what Sancho Panza said and did ; equally wondering 
at his deeds and sayings ; for his words and actions were inter- 
mixed with strong indications both of discretion and folly. When 
Signor Governor got up, by the direction of Dr Pedro Positive, 
they gave him, to break his fast, a little conserve and four 
draughts of cold water ; which Sancho would gladly have 
exchanged for a piece of bread and a bunch of grapes. But, 
seeing it was more by force than good-will, he submitted to it 
with sufficient grief to his soul, and toil to his stomach ; Pedro 
Positive making him believe that, to eat but little, and that of 
slight things, quickened the judgment, which was the properest 
thing that could be for persons appointed to rule and bear 
offices of dignity ; in which there is not so much occasion 
for bodily strength as for that of the understanding. By means 
of this sophistry, Sancho endured hunger to such a degree, 



308 THE STORY OF DON QUIXOTE 

that inwardly he cursed the government, and even him that 
gave it. 

However, with his hunger and his conserve, he sat in judgment 
that day ; and the first thing that offered was a question proposed 
by a stranger, the steward and the rest of the assistants being 
present all the while. It was this : " My Lord, a main river 
divides the two parts of one lordship. Pray, my Lord, be atten- 
tive, for it is a case of importance, and somewhat difficult. I 
say then, that upon this river stood a bridge, and at the head of 
it a gallows, and a kind of court-house, in which there were 
commonly four judges, whose office it was to give sentence 
according to a law enjoined by the owner of the river, of the 
bridge, and of the lordship ; which law was in this form : ' Who- 
ever passes over this bridge, from one side to the other, must 
first take an oath from whence he comes, and what business he 
is going about ; and if he swears true, they shall let him pass, 
but if he tells a lie, he shall die for it upon yonder gallows, with- 
out any remission.' This law being known, several persons 
passed over ; for, by what they swore, it was soon perceived they 
swore the truth, and the judges let them pass freely. Now it 
fell out that a certain man, taking the oath, swore and said, by 
the oath he had taken, he was going to die upon the gallows 
which stood there, and that this was his business, and no other. 
The judges deliberated upon the oath, and said, ' If we let this 
man pass freely, he swore a lie, and by the law he ought to die ; 
and if we hang him, he swore he went to die upon that gallows, 
and having sworn the truth, by the same law he ought to go 
free.' It is now demanded of my Lord Governor, how the judges 
shall proceed with this man, for they are still doubtful ; and 
being informed of the acuteness of your lordship's understanding-, 
they have sent me to beseech your lordship to give your opinion 
in so intricate and doubtful a case." To which Sancho answered, 
" For certain these gentlemen, the judges, who sent you to me, 
might have saved themselves and you the labour, for I have 
more of the blunt than the acute in me ; nevertheless, repeat me 
the business over again, that I may understand it ; perhaps I 
may hit the mark." The querist repeated what he had said 



AND HIS SQUIRE SANCHO PANZA. 309 

once or twice ; and Sancho said, " In my opinion, this affair 
may be briefly resolved, and it is thus : The man swears he is 
going to die on the gallows, and, if he is hanged, he swore the 
truth, and, by the law established, ought to be free, and to pass 
the bridge ; and if they do not hang him, he swore a lie, and 
by the same law ought to be hanged." — " It is just as the Signor 
Governor says," said the messenger. " I say then," replied 
Sancho, " that they let pass that part of the man that swore the 
truth, and hang that part that swore a lie ; and thus the condi- 
tion of the passage will be literally fulfilled." — " If so, Signor 
Governor," replied the querist, " it will be necessary to divide 
the man into two parts, the false and the true ; and if he is cut 
asunder, he must necessarily die, and so there is not a tittle of 
the law fulfilled ; and there is an express necessity of fulfilling 
the law." — " Come hither, honest man," answered Sancho ; 
" either I am a very dunce, or there is as much reason to put 
this passenger to death, as to let him live and pass the bridge ; 
for if the truth saves him, the lie equally condemns him ; and this 
being so, as it really is, I am of opinion, that you tell those 
gentlemen who sent you to me that, since the reasons for con- 
demning and acquitting him are equal, they let him pass freely ; 
for it is always commendable to do good rather than harm ; 
and this I would give under my hand, if I could write. In this 
case, I speak not of my own head, but upon recollection of a 
precept given me, among many others, by my master Don 
Quixote, the night before I set out to be governor of this 
island ; which was, that when justice happens to be in the 
least doubtful, I should incline and lean to the side of mercy ; 
and God has been pleased to make me remember it in the 
present case, in which it comes in so pat." — " It does so," 
answered the steward; "and for my part, I think Lycurgus 
himself, who gave laws to the Lacedaemonians, could not have 
given a better judgment than that now given by the great 
Panza. Let us have no more hearings this morning, and I 
will give order that Signor Governor shall dine to-day much 
to his satisfaction." — "That is what I desire, and let us have 
fair play," said Sancho. " Let me but dine, and bring me 



310 THE STORY OF DON QUIXOTE 

cases and questions never so thick, I will despatch them in the 
snuffing of a candle." 

The steward was as good as his word, making it a matter of 
conscience not to starve so discerning a governor ; especially 
since he intended to come to a conclusion with him that very- 
night, and to play him the last trick he had in commission. 

It fell out then, that, having dined that day against all the 
rules and aphorisms of Dr Take-Yourself-Away, at taking 
away the cloth, a courier came in with a letter from Don 
Quixote to the governor. Sancho bid the secretary read it first 
to himself, and, if there was nothing in it that required secrecy, 
to read it aloud. The secretary did so, and, glancing over it, 
said, " Well may it be read aloud; for what Signor Don Quixote 
Avrites to your lordship deserves to be printed and written in 
letters of gold ; and the contents are these : — 

Don Quixote de la Manchds Letter to Sancho Panza, Governor 
of the Island of Barataria. 
"When I expected, friend Sancho, to have heard news of 
your negligences and impertinences, I have had accounts of 
your discretion ; for which I give thanks to Heaven, that can 
make wise men of fools. I am told you govern with great 
humility of demeanour. But I would have you take notice, 
Sancho, that it is often necessary, for the sake of authority, to 
act in contradiction to the humility of the heart ; for the decent 
adorning of the person in weighty employments must be con- 
formable to what those offices require, and not according to the 
measure of what a man's own humble condition inclines him to. 
Go well-clad ; for a broomstick well-dressed does not appear a 
broomstick. I do not mean that you should wear jewels or fine 
clothes, nor, being a judge, that you should dress like a soldier ; 
but that you should adorn yourself with such a dress as suits 
your employment, and such as is neat and handsomely made. 
To gain the good-will of the people you govern, two things, 
among others, you must do : one is, to be civil to all (though I 
have already told you this), and the other is, to take care that 
there be plenty, since nothing is so discouraging to the poor as 



AND HIS SQUIRE SANCHO PANZA. 31I 

hunger and dearness of provisions. Publish not many edicts, 
and when you do, see that they are good ones, and, above all, 
that they are well observed ; for edicts that are not kept are as if 
they had not been made, and serve only to show that the prince, 
though he had wisdom and authority sufficient to make them, 
had not the courage to see them put in execution ; and laws that 
intimidate at their publication, and are not executed, become 
like the king-log of the frogs, which terrified them at first, but 
in time they contemned him, and got upon his back. Be a 
father to virtue, and a stepfather to vice. Be not always severe, 
nor always mild, but choose the mean betwixt these two ex- 
tremes. Visit the prisons, the shambles, and the markets ; for 
the presence of the governor in such places is of great import- 
ance. Comfort the prisoners, that they may hope to be quickly 
despatched. Be a bugbear to the butchers, who will then make 
their weights true ; and be a terror to the market-people for the 
same reason. Do not show yourself given to covetousness 
or gluttony ; for when the town, and those who have to do 
with you, find your ruling passion, by that they will play their 
engines upon you, till they have battered you down into the 
depth of destruction. View and review, consider and recon- 
sider, the counsels and documents I gave you in writing before 
you went hence to your government ; and you will see how you 
will find in them a choice supply to help to support you under 
the toils and difficulties which governors meet with at every 
turn. Write to your patrons, the duke and duchess, and show 
yourself grateful ; for ingratitude is the daughter of pride, and 
one of the -greatest sins ; and the person who is grateful to those 
that have done him good, shows thereby that he will be so to 
God too, who has already done him, and is continually doing 
him, so much good. 

" My lady duchess has despatched a messenger with your suit, 
and another present to your wife, Teresa Panza ; we expect an 
answer every moment. I have been a little out of order with a 
certain cat-clawing which befell me, not much to the advantage 
of my nose ; but it was nothing ; for, if there are enchanters who 
persecute me, there are others who defend me. Let me know if 



312 THE STORY OF DON QUIXOTE 

the steward, who is with you, had any hand in the actions of 
the Trifaldi, as you suspected ; and give me advice, from time 
to time, of all that happens to you, since the way is so short. I 
have thoughts of quitting this idle life very soon, for I was not 
bom for it. A business has fallen out, which will, I believe, go 
near to bring me into disgrace with the duke and duchess. But 
though it afflicts me much, it affects not my will ; for, in short, 
I must comply with the rules of my profession, rather than with 
their pleasure, according to the old saying, Amicus Plato, sed 
magis arnica Veritas, I write this in Latin, for I persuade my- 
self you have learned it since you have been a governor. And 
so farewell. — Your friend, 

" Don Oltxote de la Mancha." 

Sancho listened with great attention to the letter, which 
was applauded, and looked upon to be very judicious, by all 
that heard it. Presently Sancho rose from table, and, -calling 
the secretary, shut himself up with him in his chamber, and 
without any delay, resolved immediately to send an answer to 
his lord, Don Quixote. He bid the secretary write what he 
should dictate to him. He did so, and the answer was of the 
tenor following : — 

Sancho Panzds Letter to Don Quixote de la Mancha. 

" The hurry of my business is so great, that I have not time 
to scratch my head, nor so much as to pare my nails, and there- 
fore I wear them very long. This I say, dear master of my 
soul, that your worship may not wonder if hitherto I have given 
you no account of my well or ill being in this government, in 
which I suffer more hunger than when we two wandered about 
through woods and deserts. 

" My lord duke wrote to me the other day, giving me advice 
that certain spies were come into this island to kill me ; but 
hitherto I have been able to discover no other besides a certain 
doctor, who has a salary in this place for killing as many gover- 
nors as shall come hither. He calls himself Dr Pedro Posi- 
tive, and is a native of Take- Yourself- Away — a name sufficient 



AND HIS SQUIRE SANCHO PANZA. 313 

to make one fear dying by his hands. This same doctor says 
he does not cure distempers when people have them, but pre- 
vents their coming ; and the medicines he uses are diet upon 
diet, till he reduces the patient to bare bones ; as if a consump- 
tion were not a worse malady than a fever. In short, he is 
murdering me by hunger, and I am dying of despite ; for, in- 
stead of coming to this government to eat hot and drink cool, 
and to recreate my body between fine linen sheets upon beds 
of down, I am come to do penance, as if I were an hermit ; and,* 
as I do it against my will, I verily think, at the long run, I shall 
make away with myself. 

" Hitherto I have touched no fee, nor taken any bribe ; and I 
cannot imagine what it will end in ; for here I am told that the 
governors who came to this island, before they set foot in it, 
used to receive a good sum of money, by way of present or 
loan, from the people, and that this is the custom with those 
who go to other governments as well as with those who come 
to this. 

" I visit the markets, as your worship advises me ; and yes- 
terday I found a huckster- woman who sold new hazel-nuts, and 
it was proved upon her that she had mixed with the new a 
bushel of old rotten ones. I confiscated them all to the use of 
the charity-boys, who well know how to distinguish them, and 
sentenced her not to come into the market again for fifteen days. 
I am told I behaved bravely. What I can tell your worship is, 
that it is reported in this town that there is not a worse sort of 
people than your market-women ; and I verily believe it is so, 
by those I have seen in other places. 

" As concerning my lady duchess's having written to my wife, 
Teresa Panza, and sent her the present your worship mentions, 
I am mightily pleased with it, and will endeavour to show my 
gratitude at a proper time. Pray, kiss her honour's hands in my 
name, and tell her she has not thrown her favours into a rent 
sack, as she will find by the effect. 

" I would not wish you to have any cross-reckonings of disgust 
with our patrons the duke and duchess ; for, if your worship quar- 
rels with them, it is plain it must redound to my damage ; and 



3 14 THE STORY OF DON QUIXOTE 

since your worship advises me not to be ungrateful, it will not 
be proper you should be so yourself to those who have done you 
so many favours, and who have entertained you so generously 
in their castle. 

" The cat business I understand not, but suppose it must be 
one of those unlucky tricks the wicked enchanters are wont to 
play your worship. I shall know more when we meet. 

" I would willingly send your worship something or other, but 
J I cannot tell what. If my employment holds, I will look out for 
something to send, right or wrong. If my wife, Teresa Panza, 
writes to me, be so kind as to pay the postage, and send me the 
letter ; for I have a mighty desire to know the estate of my 
house, my wife, and my children. And so God deliver your 
worship from evil-minded enchanters, and bring me safe and 
sound out of this government, which I doubt ; for I expect to lay 
my bones here, considering how Dr Pedro Positive treats me. — 
Your worship's servant, 

" Sancho Panza, the Governor." 

The letter was duly despatched ; but before it got to its 
journey's end, arrived the page who had carried the letters and 
presents to Teresa Panza, wife of the governor, Sancho Panza. 
The duke and duchess were much pleased, being desirous to 
know the success of his journey ; and having asked him, the 
page desired their excellencies would be pleased to adjourn it to 
a private audience, and in the meantime to entertain themselves 
with those letters : then pulling out a couple, he put them into 
the hands of the duchess. The superscription of one was, "For 
my Lady Duchess Such-a-one, of I know not what place ;" and the 
other, " To my husband Sancho Panza, Governor of the island of 
Barataria, whom God prosper more years than me." The 
duchess's cake was dough, as the saying is, till she had read her 
letter; and, opening it, she read aloud what follows : — 

Teresa Panzds Letter to the Duchess. 
" My Lady, 
" The letter your grandeur wrote me gave me much satisfac- 
tion, and indeed I wished for it mightily. The string of corals 



AND HIS SQUIRE SANCHO PANZA. 315 

is very good, and my husband's hunting-suit comes not short of 
it. Our whole town is highly pleased that your ladyship has 
made my husband Sancho a governor ; though nobody believes 
it, especially the priest, and master Nicholas the barber, and 
Sampson Carrasco the bachelor. But what care I ? For so long 
as the thing is so as it really is, let every one say what they list ; 
though, if I may own the truth, I should not have believed it 
myself, had it not been for the corals and the hunting-suit ; for 
in this village everybody thinks my husband a dunce, and, take 
him from governing a flock of goats, they cannot imagine what 
government he can be good for. I am resolved, dear lady of my 
soul, with your ladyship's leave, to bring this good day home to 
my house, and hie me to court, to loll it in a coach, and burst 
the eyes of a thousand people that envy me already. And there- 
fore I beg your excellency to order my husband to send me a 
little money, and let it be enough ; for at court, expenses are 
great : bread sells for sixpence, and flesh for thirty farthings the 
pound — which is a judgment. And if he is not for my going, 
let him send me word in time ; for my feet are in motion to begin 
my journey. My neighbours tell me, that if I and my daughter 
go fine and stately at court, my husband will be known by me, 
more than I by him ; for folks, to be sure, will ask, ' What ladies 
are those in that coach?' and a footman of ours will answer, 
' The wife and daughter of Sancho Panza, Governor of the island 
of Barataria ;' and in this manner Sancho will be known, and I 
shall be esteemed. 

" I am as sorry as sorry can be, that there has been no 
gathering of acorns this year in our village ; but, for all that, I 
send your highness about half a peck. 1 went to the mountain 
to pick and cull them out, one by one, and I could find none 
larger ; I wish they had been as big as ostrich eggs. 

" Let not your pomposity forget to write to me, and I will 
take care to answer, advising you of my health, and of all that 
shall offer worth advising from this place, where I remain 
praying to our Lord to preserve your honour, and not to for- 
get me. My daughter Sanchia and my son kiss your lady- 
ship's hands. 



316 THE STORY OF DON QUIXOTE 

" She, who has more mind to see your ladyship, than to 
write to you. — Your servant, 

" Teresa Panza." 

Great was the pleasure all received at hearing Teresa Panza's 
letter, especially the duke and duchess, who asked Don Quixote 
whether he thought it proper to open the letter for the governor, 
which must needs be most excellent. Don Quixote said, to 
please them, he would open it ; which he did, and found the 
contents as follows : — 

Teresa Panza! s Letter to her husband Sancho Panza. 
" I received your letter, dear Sancho of my soul, and was 
within two fingers' breadth of running mad with satisfaction. 
Look you, brother, when I came to hear that you were a gover- 
nor, methought I should have dropped down dead for mere joy. 
I had before my eyes the suit you sent me, and the corals sent 
by my lady duchess about my neck, and the letters in my 
hands, and the bearer of them present ; and, for all that, I 
believed and thought all I saw and touched was a dream ; for 
who could imagine that a goatherd should come to be a 
governor of islands ? You know, friend, my mother used to 
say, that one must live long to see much. I say this, because 
I think to see more if I live longer ; for I never expect to stop 
till I see you a farmer-general, or a collector of the customs — 
offices in which one is always taking and fingering of money. 
My lady duchess will tell you how I long to go to court. 
Consider of it, and let me know your mind ; for I will strive to 
do you credit there by riding in a coach. The priest, the 
barber, the bachelor, and even the sexton, cannot believe you 
are a governor, and say it is all delusion, or matter of enchant- 
ment, like all the rest of your master Don Quixote's affairs ; and 
Sampson says'he will find you out, and take this government 
out of your head, and Don Quixote's madness out of his skull. 
I only laugh at them, and look upon my string of corals, and 
am contriving how to make my daughter a gown of the suit you 
sent me. I sent my lady duchess a parcel of acorns ; I wish they 



AND HIS SQUIRE SANCHO PANZA. 317 

had been of gold. Pr'ythee, send me some strings of pearl, if 
they are in fashion in that same island. Sanchia makes bone- 
lace, and gets eight farthings a day, which she drops into a 
till-box, to help towards household-stuff; but now that she is 
a governor's daughter, you will give her a fortune, and she 
need not work for it. The pump in our market-place is dried 
up. A thunderbolt fell upon the pillory ; and there may they 
all light. I expect an answer to this, and your resolution about 
my going to court. And so God keep you more years than 
myself, or as many ; for I would not willingly leave you in this 
world behind me. — Your wife, 

" Teresa Panza.*' 

The letters caused much laughter, applause, and admiration ; 
and to put the seal to the whole, arrived the courier, who 
brought that which Sancho sent to Don Quixote ; which was 
also publicly read, and occasioned the governor's simplicity to 
be matter of doubt. The duchess retired to learn of the page 
what had befallen him in Sancho's village ; who related the 
whole very particularly, without leaving a circumstance un- 
recited. He gave her the acorns, as also a cheese, which 
Teresa gave him for a very good one, and better than those of 
Tronchon. The duchess received these with great satisfaction ; 
and so we will leave them, to relate how ended the government 
of the great Sancho Panza, the flower and mirror of all island- 
governors. 




CHAPTER XXL 

End of Sanchds government — Sancho sets off, on his ass, to the 
duke's castle — Falls into a pit — Gives an account of his 
government. 

ANCHO'S government came swiftly to an end; for, 
being in bed the seventh night of the days of his 
government, he heard so great a noise of bells and 
voices, that he verily thought the whole island had 
been sinking. He sat up in his bed, and listened attentively, 
to see if he could guess at the cause of so great an uproar. 
But so far was he from guessing, that, the din of an infinite 
number of trumpets and drums joining the noise of the bells 
and voices, he was in greater confusion, and in more fear and 
dread than at first. So, getting upon his feet, he put on 
slippers, because of the dampness of the floor ; and, without 
putting on his night-gown, or anything like it, went out at his 
chamber door, and instantly perceived more than twenty 
persons coming along a gallery, with lighted torches in their 
hands, and their swords drawn, all crying aloud, " Arm, arm, 
my Lord Governor, arm ! for an infinite number of enemies are 
entered the island, and we are undone if your conduct and 
valour do not succour us." With this noise and uproar, they 
came where Sancho stood, astonished and stupefied with what 
he heard and saw. When they were come up to him, one of 
them said, " Arm yourself straight, my Lord, unless you would 
be ruined, and the whole island with you." — " What have I to 
do with arming," replied Sancho, " who know nothing of arms or 
succours ? It were better to leave these matters to my master 



THE STORY OF DON QUIXOTE. 319 

Don Quixote, who will despatch them and secure us in a trice ; 
for I understand nothing at all of these hurly-burlies." — " Alack, 
Signor Governor," said another, " what faint-heartedness is this? 
Arm yourself, sir ; come forth to the market-place, and be our 
leader and our captain, since you ought to be so, as being our 
governor." — "Arm me then, by all means," replied Sancho. 
And instantly they brought him a couple of old targets and 
clapped them over his shirt, the one before, and the other 
behind. They thrust his arms through certain holes they had 
made in them, and tied them well with some cord, insomuch 
that he remained walled and boarded up straight like a spindle, 
without being able to bend his knees, or walk one single step. 
Then they put a lance into his hand, upon which he leaned, to 
keep himself upon his feet. Thus accoutred they desired him 
to march, and to lead and encourage them all ; for, he being 
their north pole, and their lantern, and their morning-star, 
their affairs would have a prosperous issue. " How should I 
march, wretch that I am ! " answered Sancho, " when I cannot 
stir my knee-pans ? for I am hindered by these boards, which 
press so close and hard upon my flesh. Your only way is to 
carry me in your arms, and lay me athwart or set me upright 
at some postern, which I will maintain either with my lance or 
my body." — " Fie ! Signor Governor," said another, " it is more 
fear, than the targets, that hinders your marching. Have done, 
for shame, and bestir yourself; for it is late: the enemy in- 
creases, the cry grows louder, and the danger presses." 

At which persuasions and reproaches the poor governor tried 
to stir, and down he fell with such violence, that he thought he 
had dashed himself to pieces. He lay like a tortoise enclosed 
and covered with his shell, or like a flitch of bacon between two 
trays, or like a boat with the keel upwards upon the sands. 
And though they saw him fall, those jesting rogues had not the 
least compassion on him ; on the contrary, putting out their 
torches, they reinforced the clamour, and reiterated the alarm, 
with such hurry and bustle, trampling over poor Sancho, and 
giving him an hundred thwacks upon the targets, that, if he had 
not gathered himself up, and shrunk in his head between the 



320 THE STORY OF DON QUIXOTE 

bucklers, it had gone hard with the poor governor ; who, crum- 
pled up in that narrow compass, sweated and sweated again, 
and prayed Heaven to deliver him from that danger. Some 
stumbled, others fell over him ; and one there was who, getting 
a-top of him, stood there for a good while, and from thence, as 
from a watch-tower, commanded the troops, crying, with a loud 
voice, " This way, brave boys ; here the enemy charges thickest. 
Guard that postern ; shut yon gate ; down with those scaling- 
ladders ; this way with your caldrons of rosin, pitch, and 
burning oil ; barricade the streets with wool-packs." In short, 
he named, in the utmost hurry, all the necessary implements 
and engines of war used in defence of a city assaulted. The 
poor battered Sancho, who heard and bore all, said to himself, 
" Oh, if it were Heaven's good pleasure that this island were 
once lost, and I could see myself either dead or out of this 
great strait !" Heaven heard this petition, and, when he least 
expected it, he heard voices crying, "Victory, victory ! the enemy 
is routed ! Rise, Signor Governor, enjoy the conquest, and 
divide the spoils taken from the foe by the valour of that invin- 
cible arm." — " Let me be lifted up," said the dolorous Sancho, 
with a doleful voice. They helped him to rise ; and, when he 
was got upon his legs, he said, " May all the enemies I have 
vanquished be nailed to my forehead ; I will divide no spoils of 
enemies ; but I entreat and beseech some friend, if I have any, 
to give me a draught of wine, for I am almost choked ; and let 
me dry up this sweat, for I am melting away and turning into 
water." They rubbed him down ; they brought him wine ; 
they untied the targets. He sat down upon his bed ; and, swoon- 
ing away with the fright, surprise, and fatigue he had under- 
gone, those who had played him the trick began to be sorry 
they had laid it on so heavily. But Sancho's coming to himself 
moderated the pain they were in at his fainting away. He 
asked what o'clock it was; they told him it was day-break. 
He held his peace, and without saying anything more, began to 
dress himself, all buried in silence. They all stared at him, in 
expectation of what would be the issue of his dressing himself 
in such haste. 



AND HIS SQUIRE SANCHO PANZA. 321 

In fine, having put on his clothes by little and little, for he 
was so bruised he could not do it hastily, he took the way to the 
stable, everybody present following him; then going to Dapple, 
he embraced him, gave him a kiss of peace on the. forehead, 
and, not without tears in his eyes, said, " Come hither, my com- 
panion, my friend and partner in my fatigues and miseries. 
When I consorted with thee, and had no other thoughts but 
the care of mending thy furniture and feeding thy little carcase, 
happy were my hours, my days, and my years. But since I 
forsook thee, and mounted upon the towers of ambition and 
pride, a thousand miseries, a thousand toils, and four thousand 
disquiets have entered into my soul/' While he was talking 
thus, he went on saddling his ass, without anybody's saying a 
word to him. Dapple being saddled, he got upon him, with 
great pain and heaviness, and directing his speech to the 
steward, the secretary, the sewer, and Dr Pedro Positive, with 
many others that were present, said, " Give way, gentlemen, 
and suffer me to return to my ancient liberty. I was not born 
to be a governor, nor to defend islands or cities from enemies 
that assault them. I better understand how to plough and dig, 
to prune and dress vines, than how to give laws, and defend 
provinces or kingdoms. In my hand a sickle is better than a 
governor's sceptre. I had rather have my fill of my own poor 
porridge than be subject to the misery of an impertinent phy- 
sician who kills me with hunger ; and I had rather lay myself 
down under the shade of an oak in summer, and equip myself 
with a double sheep-skin jerkin in winter, at my liberty, than 
lie, under the slavery of a government, between fine linen 
sheets, and be clothed in sables. Gentlemen, God be with you ; 
and tell my lord duke, that ' naked was I born, and naked I 
am ; ' I neither win nor lose, — I mean, that without a penny 
came I to this government, and without a penny do I quit it — 
the direct reverse of governors of other islands. Give me way, 
and let me be gone *o plaister myself; for I verily believe all 
my ribs are broken, thanks to the enemies who have been 
trampling upon me all night long." 

" It must not be so, Signor Governor," said Dr Pedro Positive, 

x 



322 THE STORY OF DON QUIXOTE 

"for I will give your lordship a drink, good against fells and 
bruises, that shall presently restore you to your former health 
and vigour. And, as to the eating part, I give you my word I 
will amend that, and let you eat abundantly of whatever you 
have a mind to." — " It comes too late," answered Sancho ; " I 
will as soon stay as turn Turk. These are not tricks to be 
played twice. I vow, I will no more continue in this, or 
accept of any other government, though it were served up to 
me in a covered dish, than I will fly to heaven without wings. 
I am of the race of the Panzas, who are all headstrong ; and if 
they once cry, ' Odds,' odds it shall be, though it be even, in 
spite of all the world. In this stable let the ant's wings remain, 
that raised me up in the air, to be exposed a prey to martlets 
and other small birds ; and return we to walk upon plain ground, 
with a plain foot, for, if it be not adorned with Cordovan shoes, 
it will not want for hempen sandals. * Every sheep with its 
like ;' and i Stretch not your feet beyond your sheet ; ' and so 
let me be gone ; for it grows late." To which the steward said, 
" Signor Governor, we will let your lordship depart with all our 
hearts, though we shall be very sorry to lose you ; for your 
judgment and Christian procedure oblige us to desire your 
presence ; but you know, that every governor is bound, before 
he leaves the place he has governed, to render an account of 
his administration. When your lordship has done so for the 
days you have held the government, you shall depart, and God's 
peace be with you." — " No ; nobody can require that of me," 
answered Sancho, " but whom my lord duke shall appoint. 
To him I am going, and to him it shall be given exactly. 
Besides, departing naked as I do, there needs surely no other 
proof of my having governed like an angel." — " I declare the 
great Sancho is in the right," said Dr Pedro ; " and I am of 
opinion we should let him go ; for the duke will be infinitely 
glad to see him." They all consented, and suffered him to 
depart, offering first to bear him company, and to furnish every 
thing he desired, for the use of his person and the conveniency 
of his journey. Sancho said he desired only a little barley for 
Dapple, and half a cheese and half a loaf for himself; for, since 



AND HIS SQUIRE SANCHO PANZA. 323 

the way was so short, he stood in need of nothing more, nor 
any other provision. They all embraced him ; and he, weeping, 
embraced them again, and left them in admiration, as well at 
his discourse as at his so resolute and discreet determination. 

The night, somewhat dark and close, overtook Sancho before 
he got to the duke's castle ; but, it being summer-time, it gave 
him no great concern ; so he struck out of the road, proposing 
to wait for the morning. But his ill luck would have it that, 
in seeking a place where he might best accommodate himself, 
he and Dapple fell together into a very deep and dark pit 
among some ruins of old buildings ; and as he was falling, he 
recommended himself to God with his whole heart, not expect- 
ing to stop till he came to the depth of the abyss. But it fell 
out otherwise ; for, a little beyond three fathoms, Dapple felt 
ground, and Sancho found himself on his back, without having 
received any damage or hurt at all. He fell to feeling his body 
all over, and held his breath, to see if he was sound or bored 
through in any part ; and finding himself well, whole, and in 
health, thought he could never give sufficient thanks to God for 
the mercy extended to him ; for he verily thought he had been 
beaten into a thousand pieces. He felt also with his hands 
about the sides of the pit, to see if it was possible to get out 
without help ; but he found them all smooth, and without any 
hold or footing ; at which he was much grieved, especially when 
he heard Dapple groan most tenderly and sadly, and no won- 
der ; nor did he lament out of wantonness, being, in truth, not 
over well situated. " Alas ! " said Sancho Panza then, " what 
unexpected accidents perpetually befall those who live in this 
miserable world ! Who could have thought that he who yester- 
day saw himself enthroned a governor of an island, commanding 
his servants and his vassals, should to-day find himself buried 
in a pit, without anybody to help him, and without servant 
or vassal to come to his assistance ! Here must I and my ass 
perish with hunger, unless we die first — he by bruises and con- 
tusions, and I by grief and concern. At least, I shall not be so 
happy as my master Don Quixote de la Mancha was, when he 
descended and went down into the cave of the enchanted Mon- 



324 THE STORY OF DON QUIXOTE 

tesinos, where he met with better entertainment than in his own 
house, and where it seems he found the cloth ready laid, and 
the bed ready made. There saw he beautiful and pleasant 
visions ; and here I shall see, I suppose, toads and snakes. 
Unfortunate that I am ! Hence shall my bones be taken up 
clean, white, and bare, and those of my trusty Dapple with 
them ; whence, peradventure, it will be conjectured who we 
were, at least by those who have been informed that Sancho 
Panza never parted from his ass, nor his ass from Sancho 
Panza. Oh, my companion and my friend, how ill have I re- 
paid thy good services ! " Thus lamented Sancho Panza, and 
his beast listened to him without answering one word; such was 
the distress and anguish the poor creature was in. 

Finally, having passed all that night in sad lamentations and 
complainings, the day came on, by the light whereof Sancho 
soon perceived it was, of all impossibilities, the most impossible 
to get out of that pit without help. Then he began to lament 
and to cry out aloud, to try if anybody could hear him ; but he 
might as well have let it alone, for there was not a creature 
within hearing ; and then he gave himself over for dead. 
Dapple lay with his mouth upwards, and Sancho contrived to 
get him upon his legs, though he could scarce stand ; and pull- 
ing out of his wallet a piece of bread, he gave it his beast, 
who did not take it amiss ; and Sancho, as if the ass under- 
stood him, said to him, " Bread is relief, for all kind of grief." 
At length he discovered a hole in one side of the pit, wide 
enough for a man to creep through, stooping ; so squatting 
down, he crept through upon all fours, and found it was 
spacious and large within, and he could see about him ; for a 
ray of the sun, glancing in through what might be called the 
roof, discovered it all. He saw also that it extended itself into 
another spacious concavity. Which having observed, he came 
back to where his ass was, and with a stone began breaking 
away the earth of the hole ; soon made room for his ass to 
pass easily through, which he did ; and then, taking him by the 
halter, he advanced forward along the cavern, to see if he could 
find a way to get out on the other side. He went on, sometimes 



AND HIS SQUIRE SANCHO PANZA. 325 

darkling - , and sometimes without a light, but never without fear. 
In this manner, he fancied he had gone somewhat more than 
half a league, when he discovered a glimmering light, like that 
of the day, breaking in, and opening an entrance into what 
seemed to him the road to the other world. 

It chanced that Don Quixote was riding out that morning ; 
and reining up Rozinante sharply on the brink of a pit, heard 
therefrom a loud voice crying : — " Ho ! above there ; is there 
any Christian that hears me, or any charitable gentleman to 
take pity of a sinner buried alive, an unfortunate, disgoverned 
governor?" Don Quixote thought he heard Sancho Panza's 
voice ; at which he was amazed ; and raising his voice as high 
as he could, he cried, " Who is below there ? who is it com- 
plains ? " — " Who should be here, or who should complain," 
replied the voice, " but the forlorn Sancho Panza, governor, for 
his sins and for his evil-errantry, of the island of Barataria, and 
late squire of the famous knight Don Quixote de la Mancha ? " 
Which Don Quixote hearing, his amazement increased ; for it 
came into his imagination that Sancho Panza was dead, and 
that his soul was there doing penance ; and, being carried 
away by this thought, he said, " I conjure thee, to tell me who 
thou art, and to let me know what I can do for thee ; for, 
since it is my profession to be aiding and assisting to the 
needy of this world, I shall also be ready to aid and assist the 
distressed in the other, who cannot help themselves." — " So 
then," answered the voice, " you who speak to me are my 
master Don Quixote de la Mancha, and by the tone of the 
voice it can be nobody else, for certain." — " Don Quixote I am," 
replied Don Quixote, "he who professes to succour and assist 
the living and the dead in their necessities. Tell me, then, who 
thou art, for thou amazest me ! " — " I vow," said the voice, 
" Signor Don Quixote de la Mancha, that I am your squire 
Sancho Panza, and that I never was dead in all the days of 
my life ; but having left my government, this night I fell into 
this cavern, where I now am, and Dapple with me, who will not 
let me lie, by the same token he stands here by me ; and would 



326 THE STORY OF DON QUIXOTE 

you have any more ? " One would think the ass had under- 
stood what Sancho said ; for at that instant he began to bray, 
and that so lustily, that the whole cave resounded with it. " A 
credible witness," said Don Quixote ; " I know that bray well ; 
and I know your voice, my dear Sancho. Stay a little, and I 
will go to the duke's castle hard by, and will fetch people to get 
you out of this pit." — " Pray go, for Heaven's sake," said Sancho, 
" and return speedily ; for I am dying with fear." 

Don Quixote left him, and went to the castle, to tell the duke 
and duchess what had befallen Sancho Panza ; at which they 
wondered not a little. Finally they sent ropes and pulleys, and 
by dint of a great many hands and a great deal of labour, 
Dapple and Sancho Panza were drawn out of those gloomy' 
shades to the light of the sun. A certain scholar, seeing him, 
said, " Thus should all bad governors come out of their govern- 
ments, as this sinner comes out of the depth of this abyss, starved 
with hunger, wan, and, I suppose, penniless." Sancho hearing 
him, said, "It is about eight or ten days, brother murmurer, 
since I entered upon the government of the island that was 
bestowed upon me, in all which time I had not my fill one hour. 
I was persecuted by physicians, and had my bones broken by 
enemies ; nor had I leisure to make perquisites, or receive my 
dues ; and this being so, as it really is, methinks I deserved not 
to be packed off in this manner : but ' Man proposes, and God 
disposes;' and 'He knows what is best and fittest for everybody; 1 
and ' As is the reason, such is the season ; ' and ' Let nobody 
say I will not drink of this water ; ' for ' Where one expects to 
meet with gammons of bacon, there are no pins to hang them 
on ;' and that is enough : I say no more, though I could." — " Be 
not angry, Sancho, nor concerned at what you hear," said Don 
Quixote ; "for then you will never have done. Come but you 
with a safe conscience, and let people say what they will. If a 
governor comes rich from his government, they say he has 
plundered it ; and, if he leaves it poor, that he has been a good- 
for-nothing fool." — " I warrant," answered Sancho, " that for 
this bout, they will rather take me for a fool than a thief." 



AND HIS SQUIRE SANCHO PANZA. 327 

In such talk they arrived at the castle, where the duke and 
duchess were waiting for Don Quixote, and Sancho, who 
would not go up to see the duke till he had first taken the 
necessary care of Dapple in the stable, saying the poor thing 
had had but an indifferent night's lodging. That done, up he 
went to see the duke and duchess, before whom kneeling, he 
said, " I, my lord and lady, because your grandeurs would have 
it so, without any desert of mine, went to govern your island of 
Barataria, into which naked I entered, and naked I have left it : 
I neither win nor lose : whether I have governed well or ill, 
there are witnesses, who may say what they please. I have 
resolved doubts and pronounced sentences, and all the while 
ready to die with hunger because Dr Pedro Positive, native of 
Take-Yourself-Away, and physician in ordinary to the island 
and its governors, would have it so. Enemies attacked us by 
night ; and though they put us in great danger, the people of 
the island say they were delivered, and got the victory, by the 
valour of my arm ; and according as they say true, so may they 
prosper. In short, in this time I have summed up the cares 
and burdens that governing brings with it, and find by my 
account, that my shoulders cannot bear them ; therefore, lest 
the government should forsake me, I resolved to forsake the 
government ; and, yesterday morning, I left the island as I 
found it, with the same streets, houses, and roofs it had before 
I went into it. 1 quitted, I say, the island, accompanied by 
nobody but Dapple. I fell into a pit, and went along under- 
ground, till this morning by the light of the sun I discovered 
a way out, though not so easy a one but that, if Heaven had 
not sent my master Don Quixote there, I had stayed till the end 
of the world. So that, my lord duke, and lady duchess, behold 
here your governor Sancho Panza, who, in ten days only that 
he held the government, has gained the experience to know 
that he would not give a farthing to be governor, not of an 
island only, but even of the whole world. This, then, being the 
case, kissing your honour's feet, and imitating the boys at play 
who cry ' leap you, and then let me leap,' I give a leap out of 



328 THE STORY OF DON QUIXOTE. 

the government, and again pass over to the service of my 
master Don Quixote ; for, after all, though with him I eat my 
bread in bodily fear, at least I have my fill ; and for my part, 
so I have that, all is one to me whether it be with carrots or 
partridges. 




CHAPTER XXIT. 

Don Quixote leaves the castle — Adventure with the hills — The 
knight's reception at Barcelona. 

ON QUIXOTE now thought it high time to quit so 
idle a life as that he had led in the castle, believing 
he committed a great fault in living lazily amidst the 
infinite pleasures and entertainments the duke and 
duchess provided for him as a knight-errant ; and he was of 
opinion he must give a strict account to God for this inactivity. 
And therefore he one day ,asked leave of those princes that he 
might depart, which they granted him, with tokens of being 
mightily troubled that he would leave them. The duchess gave 
Sancho Panza his wife's letters, which he wept over, and said, 
" Who could have thought that hopes so great as those con- 
ceived in the breast of my wife Teresa Panza at the news of my 
government, should end in my returning to the toilsome adven- 
tures of my master Don Quixote de la Mancha? Nevertheless, 
I am pleased to find that my Teresa has behaved like herself, 
in sending the acorns to the duchess ; for, had she not sent 
them, I had been sorry, and she had showed herself ungrateful. 
But my comfort is, that this present cannot be called a bribe ; 
for I was already in possession of the government when she 
sent them ; and it is very fitting that those who receive a benefit 
should show themselves grateful, though it be with a trifle. In 
fine, naked I went into the government, and naked am I come 
out of it ; and so I can say, with a safe conscience (which is no 
small matter), naked I was born, naked I am ; I neither win 
nor lose." This Sancho spoke in soliloquy on the day of their 



330 THE STORY OF DON QUIXOTE 

departure ; and Don Quixote, sallying forth one morning, hav- 
ing taken leave of the duke and duchess the night before, pre- 
sented himself completely armed in the court of the castle. All 
the folks of the castle beheld him from the galleries ; the duke 
and duchess also came out to see him. Sancho was upon his 
Dapple, his wallets well furnished, and himself highly pleased ; 
for the duke's steward, who had played the part of the Trifaldi, 
had given him a little purse with two hundred crowns in gold, 
to supply the occasions of the journey ; and this Don Quixote, 
as yet, knew nothing of. Whilst all the folks were thus gazing 
at him, on a sudden the witty Altisidora raised her voice, and, 
amid a torrent of ill-wishes for the knight, roundly accused him 
of stealing her blue garters, and three of her night-caps. Don 
Quixote stood beholding her, and, without answering her a word, 
turning his face to Sancho, said, " By the age of your ancestors, 
my dear Sancho, I conjure you to tell the truth, have you taken 
away three night-caps, and the garters this damsel mentions ? " 
To which Sancho answered, " The three night-caps I have, but 
as to the garters, I know no more of them than the man in the 
moon." The duchess was surprised at the liberty Altisidora 
took, for she knew nothing of this jest. The duke resolved to 
carry on the joke, and said, " I think it does not look well, sir 
knight, that, having received so civil an entertainment in this 
castle of mine, you should dare to carry off three night-caps at 
least, if not my damsel's garters besides ; these are indications 
of a naughty heart, and ill become your character. Return her 
the garters ; if not, I defy you to mortal combat." — " Heaven 
forbid," answered Don Quixote, " that I should draw my sword 
against your illustrious person, from whom I have received so 
many favours. The night-caps shall be restored, for Sancho 
says he has them ; but for the garters, it is impossible ; for I 
have them not, nor he either ; and if this damsel of yours will 
search her hiding-holes, I warrant she will find them. I, my 
lord duke, never was a thief, and think, if Heaven forsakes me 
not, I never shall be one as long as I live." — " Do but hear one 
word more, O valorous Don Quixote, and I am silent," said 
Altisidora ; " which is, that I beg your pardon for saying you had 



AND HIS SQUIRE SANCHO PANZA. 33 1 

stolen my garters ; for, on my conscience, I have them on ; but 
I was absent in thought, like the man who looked for his ass 
while he was upon his back." — " Did I not tell you," said 
Sancho ; " I am a rare one at concealing thefts ? Had I been 
that way given, I had many a fair opportunity for it in my 
government." Don Quixote bowed his head, made his obeisance 
to the duke and duchess, and to all the spectators, and then 
turning Rozinante's head, Sancho following upon Dapple, he 
sallied out of the castle gate, taking the road to Saragossa. 

Our knight, finding himself in the open field, felt in his pro- 
per element ; and, turning to Sancho, said, " Liberty, Sancho, 
is one of the most valuable gifts Heaven has bestowed upon 
men ; the treasures which the earth encloses, or the sea covers, 
are not to be compared with it. Life may, and ought to be 
risked for liberty, as well as for honour ; and, on the contrary, 
slavery is the greatest evil that can befall us. I tell you this, 
Sancho, because you have observed the civil treatment and 
plenty we enjoyed in the castle we have left. In the midst of 
those seasoned banquets, those icy draughts, I fancied myself 
starving, because I did not enjoy them with the same freedom I 
should have done had they been my own : for the obligations 
of returning benefits and favours received, are ties that obstruct 
the free agency of the mind. Happy the man to whom Heaven 
has given a morsel of bread, without laying him under the obli- 
gation of thanking any other for it than Heaven itself." — " Not- 
withstanding all your worship has said," answered Sancho, " it 
is fit there should be some small acknowledgment on our part 
for the two hundred crowns in gold which the duke's steward 
gave me in a little purse ; which, as a cordial and a comfortative, 
I carry next my heart, against whatever may happen, for we 
shall not always find castles where we shall be made much of; 
now and then we must expect to meet with inns where we may 
be soundly thrashed." 

In these, and other discourses, our errants, knight and squire, 
went jogging on ; when, having travelled a little above a league, 
they espied a dozen men, clad like peasants, sitting at dinner 
upon the grass, with their cloaks spread under them, in a little 



332 THE STORY OF DON QUIXOTE 

green meadow. Close by them were certain white sheets, as it 
seemed, under which something lay concealed. Don Quixote 
approached the eaters ; and, first courteously saluting them, 
asked them what they had under those sheets ? One of them 
answered, " Sir, under that linen are certain wooden images, 
designed for a church we are erecting in our village." — " If you 
please," said Don Quixote, " I should be glad to see them ; for 
images that are carried with so much precaution, must doubt- 
less be good ones." — "Ay, and very good ones too," put in 
another, " as their price will testify ; for, in truth, there is not 
one of them but stands us in above fifty crowns. And, to con- 
vince your worship of this truth, stay but a little while, and you 
shall see it with your own eyes." Then rising, he went and 
took off the covering from the first figure, which appeared to be 
a St George on horseback, with a serpent coiled up at his feet, 
and his lance run through its mouth. The whole image seemed 
to be one blaze of gold. Don Quixote seeing it, said, " This 
knight was one of the best errants the divine warfare ever had. 
He was called Don St George, and was besides a defender of 
damsels : let us see this other." The man uncovered it, and it 
appeared to be that of St Martin on horseback, dividing his 
cloak with the poor man. Scarcely had Don Quixote seen it, 
when he said, "This knight also was one of the Christian 
adventurers ; and I take it he was more liberal than valiant, as 
you may perceive, Sancho, by his dividing his cloak with the 
beggar, and giving him half of it ; and doubtless it must have 
been then winter, otherwise he would have given him it all, so 
great was his charity." — "That was not the reason," said Sancho ; 
'• but he had a mind to keep to the proverb, which says, ' What 
to give and what to keep, requires an understanding deep.' " 
Don Quixote smiled, and desired another sheet might be taken 
off, underneath which was discovered the image of the patron 
of Spain on horseback, his sword all bloody, trampling on 
Moors, and treading upon heads. And at sight of it, Don 
Quixote said, " Ay, marry, this is a knight indeed, one of Christ's 
own squadron. He is called Don St Diego the Moor-killer, one 
of the most valiant saints and knights the world had formerly 



AND HIS SQUIRE SANCHO PANZA. 333 

or heaven has now." Then they removed another sheet, which 
covered St Paul falling from his horse, with all the circum- 
stances that are usually drawn in the picture of his conver- 
sion. When Don Quixote saw it represented in so lively a 
manner, that one would almost say Christ was speaking to him, 
and St Paul answering, he said, " This was the greatest enemy 
the Church of God our Lord had in his time, and the greatest 
defender it will ever have ; a knight-errant in his life, and a stead- 
fast saint in his death ; an unwearied labourer in the Lord's 
vineyard ; a teacher of the Gentiles ; whose school was heaven, 
and whose professor and master, Jesus Christ himself/"' There 
were no more images ; so Don Quixote bid them cover them 
up again, saying, " I take it for a good omen, brethren, to have 
seen what I have seen ; for these saints and knights professed 
what I profess, which is, the exercise of arms : the only differ- 
ence between them and me is, that they were saints and fought 
after a heavenly manner, and I am a sinner and fight after an 
earthly manner. They conquered heaven by force of arms 
(for heaven suffers violence), and I hitherto cannot tell what I 
conquer by force of my sufferings. But, could my Dulcinea 
del Toboso get out of hers, my condition being bettered, and 
my understanding directed aright, I might perhaps take a 
better course than I do." The men wondered, as well at the 
figure as at the words of Don Quixote, without understanding 
half what he meant by them. Then finishing their meal, they 
packed up their images, and, taking their leave of Don Quixote, 
pursued their journey, 

Soon afterwards the knight and his squire entering into a 
wood not far out of the road, on a sudden Don Quixote found 
himself entangled in some nets of green thread, which hung 
from one tree to another ; and, not being able to imagine what 
it might be, he said to Sancho, " The business of these nets, 
Sancho, must, I think, be one of the newest adventures imagin- 
able ; let me die, if the enchanters who persecute me have not 
a mind to entangle me in them and stop my journey, by way 
of revenge for the rigorous treatment Altisidora received from 
me. But I would have them know, that though these nets 



334 THE STORY OF DON QUIXOTE 

were made of the hardest diamonds, I would break them as 
easily as if they were made of bulrushes or yarn." And, as he 
was going to pass forward and break through all, unexpectedly, 
from among some trees, two most beautiful shepherdesses pre- 
sented themselves before him ; who, telling him that they with 
their friends had come to spend a few days in the woods, and 
that the nets, which they entreated him not to break, were 
placed there to catch the little birds, courteously invited him to 
sit down with them to dinner. The knight could not refuse 
them ; so, hastening to the tents, where they found the table 
spread, rich, plentiful, and neat, they honoured Don Quixote 
with placing him at the upper end, where all gazed at him, and 
admired at the sight. When the cloth was taken away, Don 
Quixote, with great gravity, raised his voice, and said : — 

" Of all the grievous sins men commit, though some say 
pride, I say ingratitude is the worst. I, then, being grateful for 
the civility offered me here, but restrained by the narrow limits 
of my ability from making a suitable return, offer what I can, 
and what is in my power ; and therefore, I say, I will maintain, 
for two whole days, in the middle of this the king's highway, 
which leads to Saragossa, that these lady shepherdesses in dis- 
guise are the most beautiful and most courteous damsels in the 
world, excepting only the peerless Dulcinea del Toboso, the 
sole mistress of my thoughts ; without offence to any that hear 
me, be it spoken." Sancho, who had been listening to him with 
great attention, hearing this, said with a loud voice, " Is it pos- 
sible there should be any persons in the world who presume to 
say, and swear, that this master of mine is a madman ? Speak, 
gentlemen shepherds ; is there a country vicar, though ever so 
discreet, or ever so good a scholar, who can say all that my 
master has said ? Is there a knight-errant, though ever so 
renowned for valour, who can offer what my master has now 
offered?" Don Quixote turned to Sancho, and, with a wrath- 
ful countenance, said, " Is it possible, O Sancho, there is any- 
body upon the globe who will say you are not an idiot, lined 
with the same, and edged with I know not what of mischievous 
and knavish ? Who gave you authority to meddle with what 



AND HIS SQUIRE SANCHO PANZA. 335 

belongs to me, and to call in question my folly or discretion ? 
Hold your peace, and make no reply ; but go and saddle Rozi- 
nante, if he be unsaddled, and let us go and put my offer into 
execution ; for, considering how much I am in the right, you 
may conclude all those, who shall contradict me, already con- 
quered." Then rising from his seat, he mounted Rozinante, 
braced his shield, and, taking his lance, planted himself in the 
middle of the highway, which was not far from the verdant 
meadow. Sancho followed upon his Dapple, with all the pas- 
toral company, being desirous to see what would be the event 
of this arrogant and unheard-of challenge. 

Don Quixote, being thus posted in the middle of the road, 
cried aloud, " O ye passengers, travellers, knights, squires, 
people on foot and on horseback, who now pass this way, or are 
to pass in these two days following, know, that Don Quixote de 
la Mancha, knight-errant, is posted here, ready to maintain, 
that the nymphs who inhabit these meadows and groves, 
exceed all the world in beauty and courtesy, excepting only the 
mistress of my soul, Dulcinea del Toboso; and let him who is 
of a contrary opinion come ; for here I stand, ready to receive 
him." Twice he repeated the same words, and twice they were 
not heard by any adventurer. But fortune so ordered it that 
soon after they discovered a great many men on horseback, 
several of them with lances in their hands, all trooping in a 
cluster, and in great haste. Scarcely had they who were with 
Don Quixote seen them, when they turned their backs, and 
got far enough out of the way, fearing, if they stayed, they 
might be exposed to some danger. Don Quixote alone, with an 
intrepid heart, stood firm, and Sancho Panza screened himself 
behind Rozinante. The troop of lance-men came up, and one 
of the foremost called out to Don Quixote, " Get out of the way, 
fool of a man, lest the bulls trample you to pieces." — " Rascals," 
replied Don Quixote, " I value not your bulls, though they were 
the fiercest that Xarama ever bred upon its banks ; confess, ye 
scoundrels, that what I have here proclaimed is true ; if not, I 
challenge you to battle." The herdsmen had no time to answer, 
nor Don Quixote to get out of the way, if he would ; and so the 



336 THE STORY OF DON QUIXOTE 

whole herd of fierce bulls and tame kine, with the multitude of 
herdsmen, and others, who were driving them to a certain town, 
where they were to be baited in a day or two, ran over Don 
Quixote, and over Sancho, Rozinante, and Dapple, leaving 
them all sprawling and rolling on the ground. Sancho re- 
mained bruised, Don Quixote astonished, Dapple battered, and 
Rozinante not perfectly sound. But at length they all got up, 
and Don Quixote, in a great hurry, stumbling here and falling 
there, began to run after the herd, crying aloud, " Hold, stop, 
ye scoundrels ! for a single knight defies ye all, who is not of 
the disposition or opinion of those who say, 'Make a bridge of 
silver for a flying enemy.' " But the hasty runners stopped not 
the more for this, and made no more account of his menaces 
than of last year's clouds. Weariness stopped Don Quixote, 
and more enraged than revenged, he sat down in the road, 
expecting the coming up of Sancho, Rozinante, and Dapple. 
They came up ; master and man mounted again, and, without 
turning back to take their leaves of the feigned or counterfeit 
Arcadia, and with more shame than satisfaction, pursued their 
journey. 

The dust and weariness Don Quixote and Sancho underwent 
through the ruda encounter of the bulls, were relieved by a clear 
and limpid fountain they met with in a cool grove ; on the 
brink whereof, leaving Dapple and Rozinante free without 
halter or bridle, the way-beaten couple, master and man, sat 
them down. Sancho had recourse to the cupboard of his 
wallet, and drew out what he was wont to call his sauce. He 
rinced his mouth, and Don Quixote washed his face ; with 
which refreshment they recovered their fainting spirits. Don 
Quixote would eat nothing, out of pure chagrin, nor durst 
Sancho touch the victuals, out of pure good manners, expecting 
his master should first be his taster. But seeing him so carried 
away by his imaginations as to forget to put a bit in his mouth, 
he said nothing, but, breaking through all kind of ceremony, 
began to stuff his hungry stomach with the bread and cheese 
before him. " Eat, friend Sancho," said Don Quixote ; " and 
support life, which is of more importance to you than to me ; 



AND HIS SQUIRE SANCHO PANZA. 337 

and leave me to die by the hands of my reflections, and by the 
force of my misfortunes. I, Sancho, was born to live dying, and 
you to die eating ; and to show you that I speak the truth, con- 
sider me printed in histories, renowned in arms, courteous in 
my actions, respected by princes, courted by damsels ; and, 
after all, when I expected palms, triumphs, and crowns, earned 
and merited by my valorous exploits, this morning have I seen 
myself trod upon, kicked, and bruised under the feet of filthy 
and impure beasts. This reflection sets my teeth on edge, 
stupefies my grinders, benumbs my hands, and quite takes away 
my appetite ; so that I intend to suffer myself to die with hun- 
ger, the cruellest of all deaths." — " At this rate/' replied Sancho, 
chewing all the while apace, "your worship will not approve of 
the proverb, which says, ' Let a man die, but die full, not fasting.' 
At least, I do not intend to kill myself, but rather to imitate the 
shoemaker, who pulls the leather with his teeth, till he stretches 
it to what he would have it. I will stretch my life by eating, 
till it reaches the end Heaven has allotted it ; and let me tell 
you, sir, there is no greater madness than to despair as you do ; 
believe me, and after you have eaten, try to sleep a little upon 
the green mattress of this grass, and you will see, when you 
awake, you will find yourself much eased." Don Quixote com- 
plied, thinking Sancho reasoned more like a philosopher than a 
fool ; and he said, " If, O Sancho, you would now do for me 
what I am going to tell you, my comforts would be more cer- 
tain, and my sorrows not so great ; and it is this, that while I, 
in pursuance of your advice, am sleeping, you will step a little 
aside from hence, and with the reins of Rozinante's bridle, give 
yourself three or four hundred lashes, in part of the three thou- 
sand and odd you are bound to give yourself for the disen- 
chantment of Dulcinea; for it is a great pity the poor lady 
should continue under enchantment through your carelessness 
and neglect." — " There is a great deal to be said as to that," 
quoth Sancho ; " for the present, let us both sleep, and after- 
wards who knows what may happen. Pray, consider, sir, that 
this same whipping one's self in cold blood is a cruel thing, and 
more so when the lashes light upon a body ill-sustained and 



333 THE STORY OF DON QUIXOTE 

worse fed. Let my Lady Dulcinea have patience ; for, when 
she least thinks of it, I '11 make an end on't." Don Quixote 
thanked him, ate a little, and Sancho much ; and both of them 
addressed themselves to sleep, leaving Rozinante and Dapple 
to feed upon the plenty of grass with which that meadow 
abounded. 

They awoke somewhat of the latest ; mounted again, and 
pursued their journey, hastening to reach an inn, which seemed 
to be about a league off, — I say an inn, because Don Quixote 
called it so, contrary to his custom of calling all inns castles. ■ 
They arrived at it, and demanded of the host if he had any 
lodging. He answered he had, with all the conveniences and 
entertainment that were to be found even in Saragossa. They 
alighted, and Sancho secured his travelling-cupboard in a 
chamber, of which the landlord gave him the key. Ke then 
took the beasts to the stable, gave them their allowance, and 
went to see what commands Don Quixote, who had sat down 
upon a stone bench, had for him ; giving particular thanks to 
Heaven that this inn had not been taken by his master for a 
castle. Supper-time came ; and they betook them to their 
chamber. Sancho asked the host what he had to give them 
for supper. The host answered he might call for whatever he 
pleased ; for the inn was provided, as far as birds of the air, 
fowls of the earth, and fishes of the sea could go. " There is 
no need of quite so much," answered Sancho ; "roast us but a 
couple of chickens, and we shall have enough ; for my master 
is of a nice stomach, and I am no glutton." The host replied 
he had no chickens, for the kites had devoured them. "Then 
order a pullet, signor host," said Sancho, " to be roasted ; but 
see that it be tender." — " A pullet ? my father ! " answered the 
host ; " truly, truly, I sent above fifty yesterday to the city 
to be sold ; but, excepting pullets, ask for whatever you 
will." — "If it be so," said Sancho, "veal or kid cannot be 
wanting." — " There is none in the house at present," answered 
the host, " for it is all made an end of ; but next week there 
will be enough, and to spare." — " We are much the nearer for 
that," answered Sancho. " I will lay a wager all these defi- 



AND HIS SQUIRE SANCHO PANZA. 339 

ciencies will be made up with a superabundance of bacon and 
eggs." — " Well I never ! " answered the host. " My guest has an 
admirable guess with him ; I told him I had neither pullets nor 
hens, and he would have me have eggs. Talk of other delicacies, 
but ask no more for hens." — " Body of me ! let us come to some- 
thing," said Sancho : " tell me, in short, what you have, and 
lay aside your flourishings, master host." — " Then," replied the 
innkeeper, "what I really and truly have, is a pair of cow- 
heels, that look like calves' feet, or a pair of calves' feet, that look 
like cow-heels ; they are stewed with pease, onions, and bacon, 
and at this very minute are crying, ' Come eat me, come eat 
me.' " — " I mark them for my own from this moment," said 
Sancho, " because I could wish for nothing that I like better ; 
and I care not a fig what heels they are, so they are not hoofs." — 
" Nobody shall touch them," returned the host ; " for some other 
guests in the house, out of pure gentility, bring their own cook 
and their provisions with them." — " If gentility be the business," 
said Sancho, "nobody is more a gentleman than my master ; 
but the calling he is of allows of no catering or butlering : 
alas ! we clap us down in the midst of a green field, and fill 
ourselves with acorns or medlars." 

When supper was over, Don Quixote went to bed, whence 
he arose early next morning, having changed his intention of 
going to Saragossa, into that of travelling to see the jousts at 
Barcelona. 

The morning was cool, and the day promised to be so too, 
when he left the inn, first informing himself which was the 
directest road to Barcelona, without touching at Saragossa. 
Now, it happened that, in above six days, nothing fell out worth 
setting down in writing ; at the end of which, going out of the 
road, night overtook them among some shady trees. Master 
and man alighted from their beasts, and, seating themselves at 
the foot of the trees, Sancho, who had had his afternoon's col- 
lation that day, entered abruptly the gates of sleep. But Don 
Quixote, whose imagination, much more than hunger, kept him 
waking, could not close his eyes ; on the contrary, he was 
hurried in thought to and from a thousand places : now he 



340 THE STORY OF DON QUIXOTE 

fancied himself in Montesinos's cave ; now, that he saw Dul- 
cinea., transformed into a country-wench, mount upon her ass 
at a spring ; the next moment, that he was hearing the words 
of the sage Merlin, declaring to him the conditions to be ob- 
served, and the despatch necessary for the disenchantment of 
Dulcinea. He was ready to run mad to see the carelessness 
and little charity of his squire Sancho, who, as he believed, had 
given himself five lashes only ; and hence he conceived so much 
chagrin and indignation, that he spoke thus to himself : " If 
Alexander the Great cut the Gordian knot, saying, to cut is the 
same as to untie, and became, nevertheless, universal lord of all 
Asia, the same, neither more nor less, may happen now, in the 
disenchantment of Dulcinea, if I should whip Sancho whether 
he will or no ; for, if the condition of this remedy consists in 
Sancho's receiving upwards of three thousand lashes, what is it 
to me whether he gives them himself, or somebody else for him, 
since the essence lies in his receiving them, come they from 
what hand they will ? " 

With this conceit he approached Sancho, having first taken 
Rozinante's reins, and adjusted them so that he might lash him 
with them. But no sooner had he touched him than Sancho 
awoke, and said, " What is the matter? who 's that ? " — " It is 
I," answered Don Quixote ; " I come to whip you, Sancho, 
and to discharge, at least in part, the debt you stand engaged 
for. Dulcinea is perishing ; you live unconcerned ; therefore, 
get up, for I mean to give you, in this solitude, at least two 
thousand lashes." — "Not so," said Sancho; "pray be quiet, 
or the deaf shall hear us. The lashes I stand engaged 
for must be voluntary, and not upon compulsion ; and, at 
present, I have no inclination to whip myself. Let it suffice 
that I give your worship my word to flog and flay myself when 
I have a disposition to it." — " There is no leaving of it to your 
courtesy, Sancho," said Don Quixote ; " for you are hard- 
hearted, and, though a peasant, of very tender flesh." Then he 
struggled with Sancho, who, thereupon, got upon his legs, and 
closing with his master, flung his arms about him, and tripping 
up his heels, laid him flat on his back, setting his right knee 



AND HIS SQUIRE SANCHO PANZA. 341 

upon his breast, while with his hands he held both his master's 
so fast, that he could neither stir nor breathe. Don Quixote said 
to him, " How, traitor ! do you rebel against your master and 
natural lord ? do you lift up your hand against him who feeds 
you ?" — " I neither make nor unmake kings," answered Sancho ; 
" I only assist myself who am my own lord. If your worship 
will promise me to be quiet, and not meddle with whipping me 
for the present, I will let you go free, and at your liberty ; if not, 
here thou diest, traitor, enemy to Donna Sanchia." Don Quixote 
promised him he would, and vowed he would not touch a hair 
of his garment, but would leave the whipping himself entirely to 
his own choice and free-will, whenever he was so disposed. 

Three days and three nights were spent in this wood ; and, 
on the fourth morning at daybreak, Don Quixote and Sancho, 
casting their eyes around on every side, saw the sea, which till 
then they had never seen. It appeared to them very large and 
spacious, somewhat bigger than the lakes of Ruydera, which 
they had seen in La Mancha. They saw the galleys lying 
close to the shore, which, taking in their awnings, appeared 
full of streamers, and pennants trembling in the wind, and kissing 
and brushing the water. From within them sounded clarions, 
trumpets, and other instruments, filling the air all around with 
sweet and martial music. Presently the galleys began to move, 
and to skirmish on the still waters ; and, at the same time, 
corresponding with them, as it were, on the land, an infinite 
number of cavaliers, mounted on beautiful horses, and attended 
by followers in gay liveries, issued forth from the city. The 
soldiers on board the galleys discharged several rounds of 
cannon, which were answered by those on the walls and forts 
of the city. The heavy artillery, with dreadful noise, rent the 
wind, which was echoed back by the cannon on the forecastles 
of the galleys. The sea was cheerful, the land jocund, and the 
air bright, only now and then obscured a little by the smoke 
of the artillery. Sancho could not imagine how those bulks, 
which moved backwards and forwards in the sea, came to have 
so many legs. 

By this time those with the liveries came up at a full gallop, 



342 THE STORY OF DON QUIXOTE. 

with shouts after the Moorish fashion, to the place where 
Don Quixote was standing, rapt in wonder and surprise ; and 
one of them said, in a loud voice, to the knight, " Welcome 
to our city, the mirror, the beacon, and polar-star of knight- 
errantry in its greatest extent ; welcome, I say, the valorous Don 
Quixote de la Mancha." Don Quixote answered not a word, 
nor did the cavaliers wait for any answer ; but, wheeling about 
with all their followers, began to career and curvet it round 
Don Quixote. The gentleman who spoke, said again to him, 
" Be pleased, Signor Don Quixote, to come along with us ; for 
we are all your very humble servants." To which Don Quixote 
replied, " Conduct me whither you please ; for I have no other 
will but yours, especially if you please to employ it in your 
service." The gentleman answered in expressions no less 
civil ; and, enclosing him in the midst of them, they all 
inarched with him, to the sound of waits and drums, towards 
the city, at the entrance whereof the author of all mischief so 
ordered it, that among the boys, two bold and unlucky rogues 
crowded through the press ; and, one of them lifting up 
Dapple's tail, the other that of Rozinante, thrust under each a 
handful of briars. The poor beasts felt the new spurs, and, by 
clapping their tails closer, augmented their smart, in such 
sort that, after several plunges, they flung their riders to the 
ground. Don Quixote, out of countenance, and affronted, 
hastened to free his horse's tail from this new plumage, and 
Sancho did the like by Dapple. Those who conducted the 
knight would have chastised the insolence of the boys ; but it 
was impossible, for they were soon lost among above a thou- 
sand more that followed them. So the twain remounted ; 
and, with the same acclamations and music, arrived at their 
conductor's house, which was large and fair, such in sort as 
became a gentleman of fortune. 




CHAPTER XXIII. 

Don Quixote's dancing — Fight with the Knight of the White 
Moon — Worsted by him, and compelled to relinquish arms 
for a twelvemonth — Resolves to turn shepherd. 

ON QUIXOTE'S host was called Don Antonio 
Moreno, a rich and discreet gentleman, and a lover 
of mirth in a decent and civil way. And so, having 
Don Quixote in his house, he began to contrive 
methods how, without prejudice to his guest, he might take ad- 
vantage of Don Quixote's madness ; for jests that hurt are no 
jests, nor are those pastimes good for anything which turn to 
the detriment of a third person. The first thing, therefore, he 
did, was to cause Don Quixote to be unarmed, and exposed to 
view in his strait chamois doublet in a balcony which looked 
into one of the chief streets of the city, in sight of the populace 
and of the boys, who stood gazing at him as if he had been a 
monkey. The cavaliers with the liveries began to career it 
afresh before him, as if for him alone, and not in honour of that 
day's festival, they had provided them. Sancho was highly de- 
lighted, thinking he had found, without knowing how or which 
way, another Camacho's wedding, another house like Don Diego 
de Miranda's, and another castle like the duke's. 

Several of Don Antonio's friends dined with him that day, all 
honouring and treating Don Quixote as a knight -errant ; at 
which he was so puffed with vainglory, that he could scarce 
conceal the pleasure it gave him. Sancho's witty conceits were 
such, and so many, that all the servants of the house hung, as it 
were, upon his lips, and so did all that heard him. While they 



344 THE STORY OF DON QUIXOTE 

were at table, Don Antonio said to Sancho, " We are told here, 
honest Sancho, that you are so great a lover of capons and 
sausages, that when you have filled yourself, you stuff your 
pockets with the remainder for the next day." — " No sir, it is 
not so," answered Sancho ; " your worship is misinformed ; for 
I am more cleanly than gluttonous ; and my master Don 
Quixote, here present, knows very well, how he and I often live 
eight days upon a handful of acorns or hazel-nuts. It is true, 
indeed, if it so falls out that they give me a beifer, I make haste 
with a halter, — I mean, that I eat whatever is offered me, and 
take the times as I find them ; and whoever has said that I am 
given to eat much and am not cleanly, take it from me, he is 
very much out, and I would say this in another manner, were it 
not out of respect to the honourable beards here at table." — " In 
truth," said Don Quixote, " Sancho's parsimony and cleanliness 
in eating deserve to be written and engraved on plates of brass, 
to remain an eternal memorial for ages to come. I must con- 
fess, when he is hungry, he seems to be somewhat of a glutton ; 
for he eats fast, and chews on both sides at once ; but as for 
cleanliness, he always strictly observes it ; and when he was a 
governor, he learned to eat so nicely, that he took up grapes, 
and even the grains of a pomegranate, with the point of a fork." 
— " How ! " said Don Antonio, " has Sancho then been a gover- 
nor ? " — " Yes," answered Sancho, " and of an island called 
Barataria. Ten days I governed it, at my own will and 
pleasure, in which time I lost my rest, and learned to despise 
all the governments in the world. I fled away from it, and fell 
into a pit, where I looked upon myself as a dead man, and out 
of which I escaped alive by a miracle." Upon which Don 
Quixote related minutely all the circumstances of Sancho's 
government ; which gave great pleasure to the hearers. 

That evening they carried Don Quixote abroad, to take the 
air, not armed, but dressed like a citizen, in a long loose gar- 
ment of tawny-coloured cloth, which would have made frost 
itself sweat at that season. And they ordered their servants to 
entertain and amuse Sancho meanwhile, so as not to let him go 
out of doors. Don Quixote rode, not upon Rozinante, but upon 



AND HIS SQUIRE SANCHO PANZA. 345 

a large easy-paced mule, handsomely accoutred. In dressing 
him, they pinned at his back, unperceived by him, a parchment, 
whereon was written in capital letters, " This is Don Quixote 
de la Mancha." They no sooner began their march, but the 
scroll drew the eyes of all that passed by, and they read aloud, 
" This is Don Quixote de la Mancha." Don Quixote wondered 
that everybody who saw him, named and knew him ; and, 
turning to Don Antonio, who was riding by his side, he said, 
" Great is the prerogative inherent in knight-errantry, since it 
makes all its professors known and renowned throughout the 
limits of the earth ; for, pray observe, Signor Don Antonio, 
how the very boys of this city know me, without ever having 
seen me." 

Now it happened that, as Don Quixote was riding along with 
the applause aforesaid, a Castilian, who had read the label on 
his shoulders, lifted up his voice, saying, " Out upon thee, Don 
Quixote de la Mancha ! What ! you are got hither without being 
killed by the infinite number of bangs you have had upon your 
back ? You are mad. Get you home, fool, and look after your 
estate, your wife and children, and leave off these vanities, which 
worm-eat your brain, and skim off the cream of your understand- 
ing." — " Brother," said Don Antonio, " keep on your way, and 
do not be giving counsel to those who do not ask it. Signor Don 
Quixote de la Mancha is wise, and we who bear him company 
are not fools. Begone in an evil hour, and meddle not where 
you are not called." — " I protest," answered the Castilian, " your 
worship is in the right ; for to give advice to this good man, is 
labour lost." With that the adviser departed ; the procession 
went on ; but the boys and the people crowded so to read the 
scroll, that Don Antonio was forced to take it off. 

Night came ; the processioners returned home, where was a 
ball, to which several ladies came — the ball beginning about ten 
o'clock at night. Among the ladies were two, so eager to take 
Don Quixote out to dance, that they teazed not only his body, 
but his very soul. It was a perfect sight to behold the figure of 
Don Quixote, long, lank, lean, and yellow, straitened in his 
clothes, awkward, and especially not at all nimble. The ladies 



346 T HE STORY OF DON QUIXOTE 

courted him, as it were, by stealth, and he disdained them by 
stealth too. But, finding himself hard pressed by their court- 
ships, he exalted his voice, and said, " Fitgite, partes adverser ; 
leave me to my repose, ye unwelcome thoughts : avaunt ladies ; 
for she who is my queen, the peerless Dulcinea del Toboso, will 
not consent that any others but herself should subject and sub- 
due me." And so saying he sat down in the middle of the hall 
upon the floor, quite fatigued and disjointed by this dancing 
exercise. Don Antonio ordered the servants to take him up, 
and carry him to bed ; and the first who lent an helping hand 
was Sancho, who said, " What, in the name of wonder, master 
of mine, put you upon dancing ? Think you that all who are 
valiant must be caperers, or all knights-errant dancing-masters ? 
If you think so, I say you are mistaken. Had you been for the 
shoe-jig, I would have supplied your defect ; for I slap it away 
like any jer-falcon ; but as for regular dancing, Icannot work a 
stitch at it." With this, and such like talk, Sancho furnished 
matter of laughter to the company, and laid his master in bed, 
covering him up stoutly, to get rid of the cold he might have 
got by his dancing. 

The galleys which had so excited the admiration of the 
knight had presently to be visited. He took Sancho with him, 
and was received on board with all honour. The boatswain 
blew his whistle for the rowers to strip to their work, which 
they did in a. trice ; and this done, the hindmost one, who was 
close to Sancho, laid hold cf him and lifted him up in his arms, 
and then the whole crew standing up, passed him from one to 
another so swiftly that the poor squire lost his sight with alarm, 
verily thinking a legion of imps were carrying him away ; nor did 
they stop until they had handed him all round, and replaced 
him in his seat, bruised and breathless. Don Quixote, behold- 
ing Sancho's flight without wings, asked if that was a ceremony 
commonly used at people's first coming a-board the galleys ; 
for he himself had no mind to it ; and clapping his hand on his 
sword, he vowed that if any presumed to lay hold of him to 
toss him, he would kick them to Madrid. 

At that instant the main-yard was hoisted, and signal for 



AND HIS SQUIRE SANCHO PANZA. 347 

weighing anchor being made, the boatswain began to lay his 
whip smartly on the naked shoulders of the rowers, who slowly 
put off to sea ; which Don Quixote observing, said to his 
squire: — "Ah, friend Sancho, how quickly and cheaply might 
you, if you would strip to the waist and place yourself amongst 
these gentlemen, put an end to the enchantment of Dulcinea ; 
for having so many companions in pain, you would feel but 
little of your own. Besides, perhaps, the sage Merlin would take 
every lash coming from so good a hand as equal to ten of 
those you must, one day or other, give yourself." Sancho, how- 
ever, who thought he had had mauling enough, declined acting 
on his master's suggestion, and returned to land without a 
whipping added to his other troubles. 

One morning while staying with his host, Don Quixote 
having sallied forth to take the air on the strand, armed at all 
points (for as he was wont to say, his arms were his finery, and 
his recreation fighting ; and so he was seldom without them), he 
perceived advancing towards him a knight, armed likewise at 
all points. On his shield was painted a resplendent moon, and, 
when he was come near enough to be heard, he raised his voice, 
and directing it to Don Quixote, said, " Illustrious knight, and 
never-enough-renowned Don Quixote de la Mancha, I am the 
Knight of the White Moon, whose unheard-of exploits, perhaps, 
may bring him to your remembrance. I come to enter into 
combat with you, and to try the strength of your arm, in order 
to make you know and confess that my mistress, be she who 
she will, is, without comparison, more beautiful than your 
Dulcinea del Toboso ; which truth if you do immediately and 
fairly confess, you will save your own life, and me the trouble 
of taking it from you : and if you fight, and are vanquished by 
me, all the satisfaction I expect is, that you lay aside arms, for- 
bear going in quest of adventures, and retire home to your 
house for the space of one year, where you shall live, without 
laying hand to your sword, in profound peace and profitable 
repose. If you shall vanquish me, my head shall lie at your 
mercy, the spoils of my horse and arms shall be yours, and the 
fame of my exploits shall be transferred from me to you. Con- 



348 THE STORY OF DON QUIXOTE 

sider which is best for you, and answer me presently : for this 
business must be despatched this very day." 

Don Quixote was surprised and amazed, as well at the. arro- 
gance of the Knight of the White Moon, as at the reason of his 
being challenged by him ; and so, with gravity composed, and 
countenance severe, he answered, " Knight of the White Moon, 
whose achievements have not as yet reached my ears, I dare 
swear you never saw the illustrious Dulcinea ; for had you seen 
her, I am confident you would have taken care not to engage 
in this trial, since the sight of her must have undeceived and 
convinced you, that there never was, nor ever can be, a beauty 
comparable to hers. Therefore, without giving you the lie, and 
only saying you are mistaken, I accept your challenge, with 
the afore-mentioned conditions ; and out of the conditions I only 
except the transfer of your exploits, because I do not indeed 
know what they are : I am contented with my own, such as 
they are. Take, then, what part of the field you please ; I will 
do the like ; and Heaven defend the right." 

The Knight of the White Moon being discovered from the 
city, the viceroy was informed that he was in conference with 
Don Quixote de la Mancha ; and, believing it was some new 
adventure contrived by Don Antonio Moreno, or by some other 
gentleman of the town, immediately rode out to the strand, 
accompanied by a great many other gentlemen ; arriving just as 
Don Quixote had wheeled Rozinante about, to take the neces- 
sary ground for his career. The viceroy, perceiving they were 
both ready to turn for the encounter, interposed, asking, what 
induced them to so sudden a fight ? The Knight of the White 
Moon answered, " It was the precedency of beauty ;" and told 
him, in a few words, what he had said to Don Quixote, and 
that the conditions of the combat were agreed to on both sides. 
The viceroy asked Don Antonio, in his ear, whether he knew 
who the Knight of the White Moon was, and whether it was 
some jest designed to be put upon Don Quixote? Don Antonio 
answered that he neither knew who he was, nor whether this 
challenge was in jest or earnest. This answer perplexed the 
viceroy, putting him in doubt whether he should suffer them to 



AND HIS SQUIRE SANCHO PANZA. 349 

proceed to the combat : but inclining rather to believe it could 
be nothing but a jest, he went aside, saying, "If there is no 
other remedy, knights, but to confess or die, and if Signor Don 
Quixote persists in denying, and your worship of the White 
Moon in affirming, — at it, and do your best." He of the White 
Moon thanked the viceroy, and Don Quixote did the same ; 
who, recommending himself to Heaven with all his heart, and to 
his Dulcinea, wheeled about again, to fetch a larger compass, 
because he saw his adversary did the like. Then, without 
sound of trumpet to give the signal for the onset, they both 
turned their horses about at the same instant ; and he of the 
White Moon, being the nimblest, met Don Quixote at two-thirds 
of the career, there encountering him with such impetuous 
force (not touching him with his lance, which he seemed to 
raise on purpose), that he gave Rozinante and Don Quixote a 
perilous fall to the ground. Presently he was upon him, and 
clapping his lance to his visor, said, " Knight, you are van- 
quished, and a dead man, if you do not confess the conditions 
of our challenge." Don Quixote, bruised and stunned, without 
lifting up his visor, as if he were speaking from within a tomb, 
in a feeble and low voice, said, " Dulcinea del Toboso is the 
most beautiful woman in the world, and I the most unfortunate 
knight on earth ; and it is not fit that my weakness should dis- 
credit this truth. Knight, push on your lance, and take away 
my life, since you have spoiled me of my honour." — " By no 
means," said he Of the White Moon. " Live, live the fame of 
the beauty of Dulcinea del Toboso in its full lustre. All the 
satisfaction I demand is, that the great Don Quixote retire 
home to his own town for a year, or till such time as I shall 
command, according to our agreement before we began this 
battle." All this was heard by the viceroy, and many other 
persons there present ; who also heard Don Quixote reply, that, 
since he required nothing of him to the prejudice of Dulcinea, 
he would perform all the rest like a punctual and true knight. 

This confession being made, he of the White Moon turned 
about his horse, and bowing to the viceroy, at a half gallop 
entered into the city. The viceroy ordered Don Antonio to 



350 THE STORY OF DON QUIXOTE 

follow him, and by all means to learn who he was. Then they 
raised Don Quixote from the ground, and, uncovering his face, 
found him pale, and in a cold sweat. Rozinante, out of pure ill 
plight, could not stir for the present. Sancho, quite sorrowful 
and cast down, knew not what to do or say. He fancied all 
that had happened to be a dream, and that all this business was 
matter of enchantment. He saw his master vanquished, and 
under an obligation not to bear arms during a whole year ; he 
imagined the light of the glory of his achievements obscured, 
and the hopes of his late promises dissipated, as smoke by the 
wind ; he was afraid Rozinante's bones were quite broken, and 
his master's disjointed, and wished it might prove no worse. 
Finally, Don Quixote was carried back to the city in a chair 
the viceroy had commanded to be brought ; and the viceroy 
also returned thither, impatient to learn who the Knight of the 
White Moon was, who had left Don Quixote in such evil 
plight. 

Don Antonio Moreno followed the Knight of the White 
Moon. A great number of boys also pursued and persecuted 
him, till they had lodged him at an inn within the city, where 
Don Antonio went in after him, being desirous to know who he 
was. The knight shut himself up in a lower room with Don 
Antonio, to whom he said, " I very well know, sir, the design of 
your coming, which is, to learn who I am ; and, because there 
is no reason for concealing it, I will inform you, without deviat- 
ing a tittle from the truth. Know, sir, that I am called the 
bachelor Sampson Carrasco ; I am of the same town with Don 
Quixote de la Mancha, whose madness and folly move all that 
know him to compassion. Of those who had most pity for 
him, was I ; and believing his recovery to depend upon his 
being quiet and staying at home in his own house, I contrived 
how to make him continue there. And so, about three months 
ago, I sallied forth to the highway like a knight-errant, styling 
myself Knight of the Looking-glasses, designing to fight with 
him, and vanquish him, without doing him harm ; the condi- 
tion of our compact being, that the vanquished should remain 
at the discretion of the vanquisher : and what I, concluding 



AND HIS SQUIRE SANCHO PANZA. 351 

him already vanquished, intended to enjoin him, was, that he 
should return to his village, and not stir out of it for a whole 
year ; in which time he might be cured. But fortune ordained 
it otherwise ; for he vanquished me, and tumbled me from my 
horse, so that my design did not take effect. He pursued 
his journey, and I returned home, vanquished, ashamed, and 
bruised with the fall, which was a very dangerous one. Never- 
theless, I lost not the desire of finding him, and vanquishing 
him, as you have seen this day. And, as he is so exact and 
punctual in observing the laws of knight-errantry, he will 
doubtless keep that I have laid upon him, and will be as good 
as his word. This, sir, is the truth, and I have nothing to add, 
but to entreat you not to let Don Quixote know who I am, that 
my good intentions may take effect, and his understanding be 
restored to a man who has a very good one, if the follies of 
chivalry do but leave him. ,, Don Antonio promised to hold his 
peace ; and Carrasco, having accomplished his purpose, then 
left the city, — his armour tied on the back of a mule, — and 
returned home. 

Six days Don Quixote lay in bed, chagrined, melancholy, 
thoughtful, and peevish, his imagination still dwelling upon the 
unhappy business of his defeat. Sancho strove to comfort him, 
and, among other things, said, " Dear sir, hold up your head, 
and be cheerful if you can, and give Heaven thanks that, 
though you got a swinging fall, you did not come off with a 
rib broken; and since you know that 'They that will give, 
must take,' and that ' There are not always bacon-flitches where 
there are pins,' cry, a fig for the physician, since you have no 
need of his help in this distemper. Let us return home, and 
leave this rambling in quest of adventures ; for if it be well 
considered, I am the greater loser, though your worship be 
the greater sufferer. I, who, with the government, quitted the 
desire of ever governing more, did not quit the desire of being 
an earl, which will never come to pass, if your worship refuses 
being a king, by quitting the exercise of chivalry ; and so my 
hopes vanish into smoke." — " Peace, Sancho," said Don Quix- 
ote, u since you see my confinement and retirement is not to 



35 2 THE STORY OF DON QUIXOTE 

last above a year ; then I will resume my honourable profes- 
sion, and shall not want a kingdom to win to myself, or an 
earldom to bestow upon you." In two days' time the knight 
was in a condition to travel ; so he and his squire departed — the 
former unarmed, and Sancho on foot, because Dapple was 
loaded with the armour. 

At going out of Barcelona, Don Quixote turned about to see 
the spot where he was overthrown, and said, " Here stood 
Troy : here my misfortunes, not my cowardice, despoiled me of 
my acquired glory ; here I experienced the fickleness of for- 
tune ; here the lustre of my exploits was obscured ; and lastly, 
here fell my happiness, never to rise again." Which Sancho 
hearing, said, " It is as much the part of valiant minds, dear 
sir, to be patient under misfortunes as to rejoice in prosperity ; 
and this I judge by myself; for as, when a governor, I was 
merry, now that I am a squire on foot, I am not sad ; for I have 
heard say that she they commonly call Fortune is a drunken, 
capricious dame, and, above all, very blind ; so that she does 
not see what she is about, nor knows whom she casts down, or 
whom she exalts." — "You are much a philosopher, Sancho," 
answered Don Quixote, " and talk very discreetly. What I 
can tell you is, that there is no such thing in the world as for- 
tune ; nor do the things which happen in it, be they good or 
bad, fall out by chance, but by the particular appointment of 
Heaven ; and hence comes the saying, that every man is the 
maker of his own fortune. I have been so of mine, but not 
with all the prudence necessary ; and my presumption has 
succeeded accordingly ; for I ought to have considered, that 
the feebleness of Rozinante was not a match for the ponderous 
bulk of the Knight of the White Moon's steed. In short, I 
adventured it ; I did my best ; I was overthrown; and, though 
I lost my honour, I lost not, nor could I lose, the virtue of per- 
forming my promise. When I was a knight- errant, daring and 
valiant, by my works I gained credit to my exploits ; and, now 
that I am but a walking squire, I will gain reputation to my 
words by performing my promise. March on then, friend 
Sancho, and let us pass at home the year of our noviciate ; 



AND HIS SQUIRE SANCHO PANZA. 353 

by whifch retreat we shall acquire fresh vigour, to return to the 
never-by-me-forgotten exercise of arms." — " Sir," answered 
Sancho, " trudging on foot is no such pleasant thing, as to 
encourage or incite me to travel great days' journeys ; let us 
leave this armour hanging upon some tree, and when I am 
mounted upon Dapple, we will travel as your worship shall like 
and lead the way ; for to think that I am to foot it and make 
large stages, is to expect what cannot be." — " You have said 
well, Sancho," answered Don Quixote; "hang up my armour 
for a trophy ; and under it, we will carve on the tree, that 
which was written on the trophy of Orlando's arms — 

' Let none presume these arms to move, 
Who Roldan's fury dares not prove.'" 

"All this seems to be extremely right," answered Sancho, 
"and, were it not for the want we should have of Rozinante 
upon the road, it would not be amiss to leave him hanging too." 
— " Neither him nor the armour," replied Don Quixote, " will 
I suffer to be hanged, that it may not be said, ' For good ser- 
vice, bad recompense.' " — " Your worship says well," answered 
Sancho ; " for, according to the opinion of the wise, ' The ass's 
fault should not be laid upon the pack-saddle : ' and, since your 
worship is in fault for this business, punish yourself, and let not 
fury spend itself upon the already shattered and bloody armour, 
or upon the gentleness of Rozinante, or upon the tenderness 
of my feet, making them travel more than they can bear." 

That night master and man passed in the middle of th<; 
fields, exposed to the sky ; and the next day, going on their 
way, they saw coming towards them a man on foot, with a 
wallet about his neck, and a javelin or half pike in his hand, 
the proper equipment of a foot-post ; who, when he was come 
pretty near to Don Quixote, mended his pace, and, half-running, 
went up to him, and, embracing him with signs of great joy, 
said, " Signor Don Quixote de la Mancha ! with what pleasure 
will my lord duke's heart be touched, when he understands 
that your worship is returning to his castle, where he is still 
with my lady duchess ! " — " I know you not, friend," answered 

z 



354 THE STORY OF DON QUIXOTE 

Don Quixote, " nor can I guess who you are, unless you tell 
me." — " I, Signor Don Quixote," answered the foot-post, " am 
Tosilos, the duke's lacquey ; and I am now going to Barcelona, 
to carry a packet of letters from my lord to the viceroy. If your 
worship please to take a little draught, pure, though warm, I 
have here a calabash full of the best, with a few slices of Tron- 
chon cheese, which will serve as a provocative and awakener 
of thirst, if perchance it be asleep." — " I accept of the invita- 
tion," said Sancho ; " throw aside the rest of the compli- 
ment ; and fill, honest Tosilos, maugre and in spite of all the 
enchanters that are in the Indies." — " In short, Sancho," said 
Don Quixote, "you are the greatest glutton in the world, and 
the greatest simpleton upon earth, if you cannot be persuaded 
that this foot-post is enchanted, and this Tosilos a counterfeit. 
Stay you with him, and eat your fill ; for I will go on fair and 
softly before, and wait your coming." The lacquey laughed, 
unsheathed his calabash, and unwalleted his cheese ; then tak- 
ing out a little loaf, he and Sancho sat down upon the green 
grass, where, in peace and good fellowship, they quickly de- 
spatched, and got to the bottom of the provisions in the wallet, 
with so good an appetite, that they licked the very packet of 
letters, because it smelt of cheese. Said Tosilos. to Sancho, 
" Doubtless, friend Sancho, this master of yours ought to be 
reckoned a madman." — " Why ought ? " replied Sancho; "he 
owes nothing to anybody ; but what boots it, especially now 
that there is an end of him? for he is vanquished by the Knight 
of the White Moon." Tosilos desired him to tell him what had 
befallen him ; but Sancho said it was unmannerly to let his 
master wait for him, and that some other time, if they met, they 
should have leisure to do it. Then rising up, after he had 
shaken his loose upper coat, and the crumbs from his beard, he 
drove Dapple before him, and, bidding Tosilos adieu, left him, 
and overtook his master, who was staying for him under the shade 
of a tree. There the knight again entreated him to do his part 
towards the disenchanting of Dulcinea. But Sancho was not at 
all in a mood to flay himself. " I cannot persuade myself," said 
he, " that the lashing of my back can have anything to do with 



AND HIS SQUIRE SANCHO PANZA. 355 

the disenchanting of the enchanted ; it is, as if one should say, 
1 If your head aches, plaister your knees/ But be that as it 
may, I will lay it on when the humour takes me, and I find 
convenience for chastising myself." 

With these discourses they went on their way, until they 
arrived at the very spot where they had been trampled upon 
by the bulls. Don Quixote knew it again, and said to Sancho, 
" This is the meadow where we alighted on the gay shepherd- 
esses and gallant shepherds, who intended to revive in it and 
imitate the pastoral Arcadia ; in imitation of which, if you 
approve it, I could wish, O Sancho, we might turn shepherds, 
at least for the time I must live retired. I will buy sheep and 
all other materials necessary for the pastoral employment ; 
and, calling myself the shepherd Quixotiz, and you the shep- 
herd Panzino, we will range the mountains, the woods, and the 
meadows, singing here, and complaining there, drinking the 
liquid crystal of the fountains, of the limpid brooks, or of the 
mighty rivers. The oaks with a plentiful hand shall give their 
sweetest fruit ; the trunks of the hardest cork-trees shall afford 
us seats ; the willows shall furnish shade, and the roses scent ; 
the spacious meadow shall yield us carpets of a thousand 
'colours ; the air, clear and pure, shall supply breath ; the moon 
and stars afford light, singing shall furnish pleasure, and com- 
plaining yield delight ; Apollo shall provide verses and love- 
conceits ; with which we shall make ourselves famous and 
immortal, not only in the present but in future ages." — "This 
kind of life," said Sancho, " squares and corners with me 
exactly. Besides, no sooner will the bachelor Sampson Car- 
rasco, and master Nicholas the barber, have well seen it, but 
they will have a mind to follow and turn shepherds with us ; 
and the priest will follow, he is of so gay a temper, and such a 
lover of mirth." — " You have said very well," replied Don Quix- 
ote ; " and the bachelor Sampson Carrasco, if he enters himself 
into the pastoral society, as doubtless he will, may call himself 
the shepherd Sampsonino, or Carrascon ; Nicholas the barber 
may be called Niculoso ; as for the priest, I know not what 
name to bestow upon him, unless it be that of the shepherd 



356 THE STORY OF DON QUIXOTE. 

Curiambro. As for the shepherdesses, whose lovers we are to 
be, we may pick and choose their names, as we do pears ; and 
since that of my lady quadrates alike with a shepherdess and a 
princess, I need not trouble myself about seeking another that 
may suit her better. You, Sancho, may give yours what name 
you please." — " I do not intend," answered Sancho, " to give 
mine any other than Teresona, which will fit her well, and is 
near her own too, since her name is Teresa." 

" What a life shall we lead, friend Sancho ! " said the knight. 
" I will complain of absence ; you shall extol yourself for a con- 
stant lover; the shepherd Carrascon shall lament his being 
disdained ; and the priest Curiambro may say or sing whatever 
will do him most service ; and so the business will go on as well 
as heart can wish." 

To which Sancho answered, " I am so unlucky, sir, that I 
am afraid I shall never see the day wherein I shall be engaged 
in this employment. Oh, what neat wooden spoons shall I make 
when I am a shepherd ! what crumbs ! what cream ! what gar- 
lands ! what pastoral gimcracks ! which, though they do not 
procure me the reputation of being wise, will not fail to procure 
me that of being ingenious. My daughter Sanchia will bring 
us our dinner to the sheepfold ; and we will be as merry as the 
day is long." 

They supped late and ill, that night, much against Sancho's 
inclination ; but he considered it was not possible it should be 
always day, or always night ; so he spent the remainder of 
that sleeping, and his master waking. 




CHAPTER XXIV. 

Don Quixote and Sancho carried off to the castle by strange 
horsemen — How Sancho disenchants Altisidora — And how 
he performed his whipping. 

HE night was somewhat dark, though the moon was 
in the heavens, but not in a part where she could 
be seen. Don Quixote gave way to nature, taking 
his first sleep, without giving place to a second ; 
quite the reverse of Sancho, who never had a second, one sleep 
lasting him from night to morning — an evident sign of his 
good constitution and few cares. Those of Don Quixote kept 
him so awake, that he awakened Sancho, and said, " I am 
amazed, Sancho, at the insensibility of your temper : you seem 
to me to be made of marble or brass, not susceptible of any 
emotion' or sentiment ; I wake, while you sleep ; I weep, when 
you are singing ; I am fainting with hunger, when you are lazy 
and unwieldy with pure cramming ; — it is the part of good 
servants to share in their master's pains, and to be touched 
with what affects them, were it but for the sake of decency. 
Behold the serenity of the night, and the solitude we are in, 
inviting us, as it were, to intermingle some watching with our 
sleep. Get up, go a little apart from hence, and give yourself 
three or four hundred lashes, upon account, for the disenchant- 
ment of Dulcinea ; and this I ask as a favour ; for I will not 
come to wrestling with you again, as I did before, because I 
know the weight of your arms. After you have laid them on, 
we will pass the remainder of the night in singing — I, my ab- 
sence, and you, your constancy — beginning from this moment our 



35 S THE STORY OF DON QUIXOTE 

pastoral employment, which we are to follow in our village.'* — 
' ; Sir." answered Sancho, " suffer me to sleep, and urge not this 
whipping myself; lest you force me to swear never to touch a 
hair of my coat, much less of my flesh." — " Oh, hardened soul ! " 
cried Don Quixote; "oh, remorseless squire! oh, bread ill- 
employed, and favours ill-considered ! those I have already 
bestowed upon you, and those I still intend to bestow upon 
you. To me you owe that you have been a governor ; and to 
me you owe that you are in a fair way of being an earl, or 
something quite as good; and the accomplishment of those 
things will be delayed no longer than the expiration of this 
year ; for ' Post tencbras spero lucem? " — " I know not what 
that means," replied Sancho ; " I only know that while I am 
asleep, I have neither fear nor hope, neither trouble nor glory i 
and blessings on him who first invented this same sleep, for it 
wraps one about like a cloak. It is the food that appeases 
hunger, the drink that quenches thirst, the fire that warms 
cold, the cold that moderates heat, and, lastly, the general coin 
that purchases all things ; the balance and weight that equals 
the shepherd with the king, and the simple with the wise. One 
only evil, as I have heard, sleep has in it, namely, that it re- 
sembles death ; for between a man asleep and a man dead, 
there is but little difference." — " I never heard you, Sancho," 
said Don Quixote, <; talk so eloquently as now ; whence I come 
to know the truth of the proverb you often apply, ' Not with 
whom thou art bred, but with whom thou art fed.' " — " Dear 
master of mine," replied Sancho, " it is not I that am stringing 
of proverbs now ; for they fall from your worship's mouth also 
by couples, faster than from me ; only between yours and mine 
there is this difference, that your worship's come at the proper 
season, and mine out of season ; but in short they are all 
proverbs.'' 

They were thus employed, when they heard a strange noise 
spreading itself through all those valleys. Don Quixote started 
up, and laid his hand to his sword ; Sancho squatted down 
under Dapple, and clapped the bundle of armour on one side 
of him, and the pack-saddle on the other, trembling no less 



AND HIS SQUIRE SANCHO PANZA. 359 

with fear than Don Quixote with surprise. The noise increased 
by degrees, and came nearer to the two ; for certain fellows 
were driving about six hundred hogs to sell at a fair, and so great 
was the din they made with grunting and blowing, that they 
deafened the ears of Don Quixote and Sancho, who could not 
presently guess the occasion of it. The grunting herd came 
crowding on, and, without any respect to the authority of Don 
Quixote, or to that of Sancho, trampled over them both, de- 
molishing Sancho's entrenchment, and overthrowing not only 
Don Quixote, but Rozinante to boot. The crowding, the 
grunting, the hurrying on of these unclean animals, put into 
confusion and overturned the pack-saddle, the armour, Dapple, 
Rozinante, Sancho, and Don Quixote. Sancho got up as well 
as he could, and desired his master to lend him his sword, say- 
ing he would kill half a dozen at least of those unmannerly 
swine, for such by this time he knew them to be. Said Don 
Quixote to him, " Let them alone, friend ; for this affront is a 
punishment for my sin ; and it is a just judgment of Heaven, 
that wild dogs should devour, wasps sting, and hogs trample 
upon, a vanquished knight-errant." — " It is also, I suppose, a 
judgment of Heaven," answered Sancho, "that the squires of 
vanquished knights-errant should be stung by flies, eaten up by 
fleas, and besieged by hunger. Well, let us compose ourselves 
again, and sleep out the little remainder of the night ; a new 
day may send us better luck." — " Sleep you, Sancho," answered 
Don Quixote ; " for you were born to sleep, whilst I, who was 
born to watch, give the reins to my thoughts, and cool their 
heat in a little madrigal, which I composed to-night in my 
mind." — " Methinks," said Sancho, " the thoughts which give 
way to the making of couplets, cannot be many or grievous. 
Couplet it as much as your worship pleases, and I will 
sleep as much as I can." Then, taking as much ground as he 
wanted, he bundled himself up, and fell into a sound sleep, 
neither suretyship nor debts, nor any troubles disturbing him. 

In the morning they set forward on their journey ; and, 
towards the decline of the afternoon, discovered about half a score 
of men on horseback, and four or five on foot, advancing 



360 THE STORY OF DON QUIXOTE 

towards them. Don Quixote's heart leaped with surprise, and 
Sancho's with fear ; for the men that were coming up, carried 
spears and targets, and advanced in very warlike array. Don 
Quixote turned to Sancho, and said, " Sancho, could I but make 
use of my arms, and my promise kad not tied up my hands, 
this machine, that is coming towards us, I would make no 
more of, than I would of so many tarts and cheesecakes." By 
this time the horsemen were coming up ; and lifting up their 
lances, without speaking a word, surrounded Don Quixote, and 
clapped their spears to his back and breast, threatening to kill 
him. One of those on foot, putting his finger to his mouth, to 
signify that he should be silent, laid hold on Rozinante's bridle, 
and drew him out of the road ; and the others on foot, driving 
Sancho and Dapple before them, all keeping a marvellous 
silence, followed the steps of him who led Don Quixote, who 
had a mind three or four times to ask whither they were carry- 
ing him, or what they would have. But scarce did he begin to 
move his lips, when they were : ready to close them with the 
points of their spears. And the like befell Sancho, for no 
sooner did he show an inclination to talk, than one of those on 
foot pricked him with a goad, and did as much to Dapple, as 
though the ass had a mind to talk too. It grew night ; they 
mended their pace ; the fear of the two prisoners increased, 
especially when they heard the fellows ever and anon say to 
them, " On, on, ye Troglodytes ; peace, ye barbarous slaves ; 
pay, ye Anthropophagi ; complain not, ye Scythians ; open not 
your eyes, ye murdering Polyphemuses, ye butcherly lions ; " 
and other the like names, with which they tormented the ears 
of the miserable pair, master and man. Sancho went along, 
saying to himself, " We Ortolans ? we barber's slaves ? we 
Andrew popinjays ? we Citadels ? we Polly famouses ? I do 
not like these names at all ; the whole mischief comes upon us 
together, like kicks to a cur ; and I would this disventurous 
adventure, that threatens us, may end in no worse ! " Don 
Quixote marched along, quite confounded, not being able to 
conjecture why they called them by those reproachful names ; 
from which he could only gather, that no good was to be ex- 



AND HIS SQUIRE SANCHO PANZA. 36 1 

pected, and much harm to be feared. In this condition, about 
an hour after night-fall, they arrived at a castle, which Don 
Quixote presently knew to be the duke's, where he had so lately 
been. " Heaven help us ! ;; said he, as soon as he knew the 
place. " What will this end in ? In this house all is courtesy 
and civil usage ; but to the vanquished, good is converted into 
bad, and bad into worse." Then entering into the principal 
court of the castle, the horsemen alighted ; and, together with 
those on foot, taking Sancho and Don Quixote forcibly in their 
arms, carried them into the courtyard, round which near a hun- 
dred torches were placed in sockets, and above five hundred 
lights about the galleries of the court, insomuch that, in spite 
of the night, which was somewhat darkish, there seemed to be 
no want of the day. In the middle of the court was erected a 
stage, about two yards from the ground, upon which lay, under 
a gorgeous canopy of black velvet and brocade, the apparently 
lifeless body of Altisidora. On one side of the court two 
crowned figures were seated in chairs, opposite to whom Don 
Quixote and Sancho were placed ; with strict injunctions, by 
signs, to keep silence. Then came the duke and duchess, for 
whom chairs were set close to those of the two kings. As they 
entered, an officer threw over Sancho a robe of black buckram, 
all painted over with flames ; and, taking off his cap, put on 
his head a pasteboard mitre, three feet high, bidding him, in 
his ear, not to unsew his lips ; if he did, they would clap a gag 
in his mouth, or kill him. Sancho viewed himself from top to 
toe, and saw himself all over in flames ; but, finding they did 
not burn him, cared not two farthings. He took off his mitre, 
and saw it all painted over with devils ; then he put it on 
again, saying within himself, " Well enough yet ; these do not 
burn me, nor those carry me away." Don Quixote also sur- 
veyed him ; and, though fear suspended his senses, could not 
but smile to behold Sancho's figure. 

When all was thus arranged, one of the crowned figures rose, 
and addressing his companion as Rhadamanthus, bade him 
declare by what process the damsel should be brought to life 
again. Rhadamanthus rising up, then said, " Ho, ye officers of 



362 THE STORY OF DON QUIXOTE 

this household, high and low, great and small, run one after 
another, and seal Sancho's face with four and twenty twitches, 
and his arms and sides with twelve pinches, and six pricks of a 
pin ; for in the performance of this ceremony consists the re- 
storation of Altisidora ! " Which Sancho Panza hearing, he 
broke silence, and said, " I vow I will no more let my face be 
sealed, nor my flesh be handled, than I will turn Turk. A 
pretty piece of work indeed ! Dulcinea is enchanted, and I 
must be whipped to disenchant her ; and now Altisidora must 
be brought to life again, by giving me four and twenty twitches, 
and making a sieve of my body by pricking it with pins, and 
pinching my arms black and blue. Put these tricks on some- 
body else, for I won't stand 'em." — " Thou shalt die then," quoth 
Rhadamanthus, in a loud voice. " Relent, thou tiger ; suffer and 
be silent ; twitched thou shalt be, pricked thou shalt see thyself, 
and pinched shalt thou groan. Ho, officers, execute my com- 
mand ! » 

Now came, in procession along the court, six duennas, four of 
them with spectacles, and all of them with their right hands 
lifted up, and four fingers' breadth of their wrists bare, to make 
their hands seem the longer. Scarcely had Sancho laid his eyes 
on them, when, bellowing like a bull, he said, " I might, perhaps, 
let all the world besides handle me, but to consent that duennas 
touch me, — by no means. Let them cat- claw my face, as my 
master was served in this very castle ; let them pierce my body 
through and through with the points of the sharpest daggers ; 
let them tear off my flesh with red-hot pincers, — and I will en- 
dure it patiently, to serve these noble persons ; but to let 
duennas touch me, I will never consent, come what will of it." 
Don Quixote also broke silence, saying to Sancho, " Be patient, 
son ; oblige these noble persons, and give many thanks to 
Heaven for having infused such virtue into your person, that, 
by its martyrdom, you disenchant the enchanted, and raise the 
dead." By this time the duennas were got about Sancho ; and 
he, being mollified and persuaded, seated himself well in his 
chair, and held out his face and beard to the first, who gave 
him a good twitch, and then made him a profound reverence. 



AND HIS SQUIRE SANCHO PANZA. 363 

" Less complaisance, less twitching, mistress duenna," said 
Sancho ; " for, hang it ! your fingers are none of the weakest." 
In short, all the duennas sealed him, and several others of the 
house pinched him ; but what he could not bear was the prick- 
ing of the pins. So up he started from his seat, quite out of all 
patience, and catching hold of a lighted torch that was near 
him, laid about him with it, putting the duennas and all his 
executioners to flight, saying, " Avaunt, ye infernal ministers ! 
for I am not made of brass, to be insensible of such extraordin- 
ary torments ! " 

Upon this, Altisidora turned herself on one side, which the 
bystanders perceiving, almost all of them, with one voice, cried, 
"Altisidora is alive! Altisidora lives!" Don Quixote no 
sooner saw her stir, than he went and kneeled down before 
Sancho, and said, " Now is the time, dear son, rather than my 
squire, to give yourself some of those lashes you stand engaged 
for, in order to the disenchantment of Dulcinea ; this, I say, is 
the time, now that your virtue is seasoned, and of efficacy to 
operate the good expected from you." To which Sancho 
answered, " This seems to me to be reel upon reel, and not 
honey upon fritters. A good jest indeed, that twitches, pinches, 
and pin-prickings must be followed by lashes ! But take a great 
stone, once for all, and tie it about my neck, and toss me into a 
well ; it will not grieve me much, if, for the cure of other folks' 
ailments, I must still be the physic. Let them not meddle with 
me, else all shall out." 

And now Altisidora had seated herself upright on the tomb ; 
and looking askew at Don Quixote, said, " Heaven forgive you, 
unrelenting knight, through whose cruelty I have been in the 
other world, to my thinking, above a thousand years ; and thee 
I thank, O most compassionate squire, for bringing me to life 
again ! From this day, friend Sancho, six of my petticoats are 
at your service, to be made into so many shirts for yourself ; 
and if they are not all whole, at least they are all clean." For 
which Sancho kissed her hand. The duke then ordered the 
court to be cleared, and that Don Quixote and Sancho should 
be conducted to their old lodgings. 



364 THE STORY OF DON QUIXOTE 

Sancho slept that night on a truckle-bed in the same cham- 
ber with Don Quixote ; a thing he would have excused if he 
could ; for he was not much disposed to talk, the smart of his 
past sufferings being still present to him. Scarcely was his 
master got into bed, when he said, " What think you, Sancho, 
of this night's adventure ? " — " Altisidora might have died in a 
good hour, as much as she pleased, and how she pleased," 
answered Sancho ; " and she might have left me in my own 
house, since I neither made her in love, nor ever disdained her 
in my life. I know not how it can be that her recovery should 
have anything to do with the torturing of Sancho Panza. But, 
for the present, I beseech your worship to let me sleep, and ask 
me no more questions, unless you have a mind I should throw 
myself out of the window," — " Sleep, friend Sancho," answered 
Don Quixote, " if the pin-prickings, pinchings, and twitchings 
you have received will give you leave." — " No smart," replied 
Sancho, " came up to the affront of the twitches, and for no 
other reason but because they were given by duennas, confound 
them ! — and once more I beseech your worship to let me sleep ; 
for sleep is the relief of those who are uneasy awake." — " Be it 
so," said Don Quixote ; " and good night to you." 

Next morning they departed, and the vanquished and for- 
lorn Don Quixote travelled along, exceedingly pensive on the 
one hand, and very joyful on the other. His defeat caused his 
sadness, and his joy was occasioned by considering that the 
disenchantment of Dulcinea was likely to be effected by the 
virtue inherent in Sancho, of which he had just given a manifest 
proof in the resurrection of Altisidora ; though he could not 
readily bring himself to believe that the enamoured damsel was 
really dead. Sancho went on, not at all pleased to find that 
Altisidora had not been as good as her word, in giving him the 
petticoats ; so turning it over in his mind, he said to his 
master, " In truth, sir, I am the most unfortunate physician 
that is to be met with in the world, in which there are doctors, 
who kill the patient they have under cure, and yet are paid for 
their pains, which is no more than signing a little scroll of cer- 
tain medicines ; while poor I, though another's cure cost me 



AND HIS SQUIRE SANCHO PANZA. 365 

drops of blood, twitches, pinchings, pin-prickings, and lashes, 
get not a doit. But I vow that, if ever any sick man falls into 
my hands again, they shall grease them well before I per- 
form the cure; for 'The abbot must eat, that sings for his 
meat : ' and I cannot believe Heaven has endued me with the 
virtue I have, that I should communicate it to others for 
nothing." — " You are in the right, friend Sancho," answered 
Don Quixote ; " and Altisidora has done very ill by you, not to 
give you the promised garments, though the virtue you have 
was given you gratis, and without any studying on your part 
more than studying how to receive a little pain in your person. 
For myself, I can say, if you had a mind to be paid for dis- 
enchanting Dulcinea, I would have made it good to you ere 
now ; but I do not know whether payment will agree with the 
conditions of the cure, and I would by no means have the 
reward hinder the operation of the medicine. But, for all that, 
I think, there can be no risk in making a small trial. Consider, 
Sancho, what you would demand, and set about the whipping 
straight, and pay yourself in ready money, since you have 
cash of mine in your hands." 

At these offers Sancho opened his eyes and ears a span wider, 
and in his heart consented to whip himself heartily ; so he said to 
his master, " Well then, sir, I will now dispose myself to give 
your worship satisfaction, since I shall get something by it ; for, 
I confess, the love I have for my wife and children makes me 
seem a little self-interested. Tell me, sir, how much will your 
worship give for each lash ? " — " Were I to pay you, Sancho,' 1 
answered Don Quixote, "in proportion to the greatness and 
quality of the cure, the treasures of Venice and the mines of 
Potosi would be two small a recompense. But see how much 
cash you have of mine, and set your own price upon each lash." 
— " The lashes," answered Sancho, " are three thousand three 
hundred and odd : of these I have already given myself five ; 
the rest remain ; let the five pass for the odd ones, and let us 
come to the three thousand three hundred'; which at three half- 
pence a-piece (for I will not take less) amount to three thousand 
three hundred and three halfpences, which make one thousand six 



366 THE STORY OF DON QUIXOTE 

hundred and fifty threepences ; which make eight hundred and 
twenty-five sixpences. These I will deduct from what I have of 
your worship's in my hands, and shall return to my house rich 
and contented, though well- whipped." — " O blessed Sancho ! O 
amiable Sancho !" replied Don Quixote ; "how much shall Dul- 
cinea and I be bound to serve you all the days of our lives ! And 
when, Sancho, do you propose to begin the discipline ? I will 
add an hundred sixpences over and above for despatch.' 
— " When ? " replied Sancho ; " even this very night without fail. 
Take you care, sir, that we may be in open field, and I will take 
care to lay my flesh open." 

At length came the night, expected by Don Quixote with the 
greatest anxiety in the world ; and presently they got among 
some pleasant trees a little way out of the high road, where, dis- 
mounting, they laid themselves along on the green grass, and 
supped out of Sancho's cupboard ; who, making a ponderous 
and flexible whip of Dapple's head-stall and halter, withdrew 
about twenty paces from his master among some beech-trees. 
Don Quixote, seeing him go with such resolution and spirit, 
said to him : " Take care, friend, you do not lash yourself to 
pieces ; take time ; hurry not yourself so as to lose your breath 
in the midst of your career ; I mean, you must not lay it on so 
unmercifully, as to lose your life before you attain to the 
desired number. Meanwhile I will stand aloof, and keep 
reckoning of the lashes you shall give yourself." — " I design to 
lay it on" said Sancho, "in such a manner, that it may smart with- 
out killing me." He then stripped from the waist upward ; 
and snatching and cracking the whip, began to lay on himself, 
and Don Quixote to count the strokes. Sancho had given him- 
self about six or eight, when he thought the jest a little too 
heavy, and the price much too easy ; so stopping his hand 
a while, he said to his master, that he appealed on being 
deceived, every lash of those being richly worth threepence, 
instead of three halfpence. " Proceed, friend Sancho, and be 
not faint-hearted," said Don Quixote ; "for I double the pay." 
— " If so," returned Sancho, " away with it, and let it rain lashes." 
But the sly knave, instead of laying them on his back, laid 



AND HIS SQUIRE SANCHO PANZA. 367 

them on the trees, fetching ever and anon such groans, that 
one would have thought each would have torn up his very 
soul by the roots. Don Quixote, naturally tender-hearted, and 
fearing he would put an end to his life, and so he should not 
attain his desire, through Sancho's imprudence, said to him, " I 
conjure you, friend, let the business rest here ; for this medicine- 
seems to be very harsh ; take time to it. You have already 
given yourself, if I reckon right, above a thousand lashes ; 
enough for the present." — " No, no," answered Sancho, " it shall 
never be said for me, ' The money paid, the work delayed.' 
Pray, sir, get a little farther off, and let me give myself another 
thousand lashes at least ; for a couple more of such bouts will 
finish the job, and stuff to spare." And with that he returned 
to his task with so much fervour, and such was the rigour with 
which he gave the lashes, that he had already disbarked many 
a tree ; and once, lifting up his voice, and giving an unmeasur- 
able stroke to a beech, he cried, " Down with thee, Sampson, 
and all that are with thee." Don Quixote presently ran to the 
sound of the piteous voice, and the stroke of the severe whip ; 
and, laying hold of the twisted halter, which served Sancho 
instead of a cat-o'-ninetails, said, " Heaven forbid, friend 
Sancho, that, for my pleasure, you should lose that life upon 
which depends the maintenance of your wife and children : let 
Dulcinea wait a better opportunity ; and stay till you recover 
fresh strength, that this business may be concluded to the satis- 
faction of all parties." — " Since your worship, dear sir, will have 
it so," answered Sancho, " so be it ; and pray, fling your cloak 
over my shoulders ; for I am all in a sweat, and am loth to 
catch cold, as, being new at the business, I am like." Don 
Quixote did so ; and, leaving himself in his doublet, covered 
up Sancho, who slept till the sun waked him, when they con- 
tinued their journey, stopping at a place about three leagues 
off. 

They alighted at an inn, where, having rested, Don Quixote 
asked Sancho if he had a mind to give himself another dose of 
whipping that night, and if so, whether he preferred it should be 
done under a roof, or in the open air. " For what I intend to 



368 THE STORY OF DOX QUIXOTE. 

give myself," answered Sancho, "it is all the same to me, 
whether it be in the house or in a field ; though I had rather it 
were among trees ; for, methinks, they accompany me, as it 
were, and help me to bear my toil marvellously well." — " How- 
ever, it shall not be now, friend Sancho," said his master ; 
" but, that you may recover strength, it shall be reserved for our 
village ; and we shall get thither by the day after to-morrow at 
farthest." Sancho replied, he might order that as he pleased ; 
but, for his part, he was desirous to make an end of the busi- 
ness out of hand, and while the mill was grinding ; for usually the 
danger lies in the delay ; and ' Pray devoutly, hammer stoutly ; ' 
and 'One take is worth two I : ll-give-thees ; ' and 'A bird in 
hand is better than a vulture on the wing.' — "No more pro- 
verbs, Sancho, for pity's sake," said Don Quixote. " Speak 
plainly, and without flourishes, as I have often told you, and 
you will find it a loaf per cent, in your way." — " I know not how 
I came to be so unlucky," answered Sancho, " that I cannot 
give a reason without a proverb, nor a proverb, which does not 
seem to me to be a reason; but I will mend if I can." And thus 
ended the conversation for that time. 

The next night was passed among some trees, to give Sancho 
an opportunity of finishing his discipline ; which he did after 
the manner of the night before, more at the expense of the bark 
of the beeches than his own back, of which he was so careful, 
that the lashes he gave it would not have brushed off a fly. 




CHAPTER XXV. 

Don Quixote and Sancho reach their own village — The knight 
falls ill — Recovers his senses, and dies. 

;HE following morning they resumed their journey, 
travelling the whole of that day and night without 
any occurrence worth relating, unless it be that 
Sancho finished his task, at which his master was 
above measure pleased ; looking narrowly next day at every 
woman he met on the road, to see if she were his disenchanted 
Dulcinea. At last, ascending a little hill, their own village 
came in sight ; beholding which, Sancho kneeled down, and 
said, " Open thine eyes, O desired country, and behold thy son, 
Sancho Panza, returning to thee again, if not very rich, yet very 
well whipped ; open thine arms, and receive likewise thy son 
Don Quixote, who, if he comes conquered with another's hand, 
yet he comes a conqueror of himself, which, as I have heard 
him say, is the greatest victory that can be desired. Money I 
have ; for if I have been well whipped, I am come off like a 
gentleman." — " Leave these fooleries, Sancho," said Don Quix- 
ote, "and let us go straight home, where we will settle the plan 
we intend to govern ourselves by in our pastoral life." This 
said, they descended the hill, and went directly to the village ; 
on entering which, sundry omens much disturbed the mind of 
our knight, who thereupon concluded that he had only come 
home to die. For this, Sancho rebuked his master, saying, 
" Sir, if I remember right, I have heard the priest of our village 
say that good Christians and wise people ought not to regard 
these fooleries ; and your worship's own self told me as much a 

2 A 



370 THE STORY OF DON QUIXOTE 

few days ago, giving me to understand that all such Christians 
as minded presages were fools ; so there is no need of troubling 
ourselves any further about them ; but let us go on, and get 
home to our village." 

With that, they went on their way, and, at the entrance of the 
village, in a little meadow, they found the priest and the bache- 
lor Sampson Carrasco. Now you must know, that Sancho 
Panza had thrown the buckram robe, painted with flames of fire 
(which he had worn at the duke's castle, the night he had 
brought Altisidora to life again), instead of a sumpter cloth, 
over the bundle of armour upon his ass. He had likewise 
clapped the mitre on Dapple ; insomuch that never was ass 
so metamorphosed and adorned. The priest and the bachelor 
presently knew them both, and came running to them with 
open arms. Don Quixote alighted and embraced them closely, 
and the boys, who are sharp-sighted as lynxes, espying the ass's 
mitre, flocked to view him, and said one to another, " Come, 
boys, and you shall see Sancho Panza's ass finer than a fiddler, 
and Don Quixote's beast leaner than ever." Finally, sur- 
rounded with boys, and accompanied by the priest and the 
bachelor, they entered the village, and took the way to Don 
Quixote's house, where they found at the door the housekeeper 
and the niece, who had already heard the news of his arrival. 
It had likewise reached the ears of Teresa Panza, Sancho's 
wife, who, half-naked, with her hair about her ears, and drag- 
ging Sanchia after her, ran to see her husband ; and, seeing 
him not so well equipped as she imagined a governor ought to 
be, said, "What makes you come thus, dear husband? me- 
thinks you come afoot and foundered, and look more like a 
misgoverned person than a governor." — " Peace, Teresa," an- 
swered Sancho ; " and let us go to our house, where you shall 
hear wonders. Money I bring with me (which is the main 
business), got by my own industry, and without damage to 
anybody." — " Bring but money, my good husband," said Teresa, 
" and let it be got this way or that way, for, get it how you will, 
you will have brought up no new custom in the world." San- 
chia embraced her father, and asked if he had brought hei 



AND HIS SQUIRE SANCHO PANZA. 37 1 

anything ; for she had been wishing for him, as people do for 
rain in May ; and then, taking hold of his belt on one side, and 
his wife taking him by the hand on the other, Sanchia pulling 
Dapple after her, they went home to their house, leaving Don 
Quixote in his, in the power of his niece and the housekeeper, 
and in the company of the priest and the bachelor. 

Don Quixote that very instant went apart with the bachelor 
and the priest, and related to them, in few words, how he was 
vanquished, and the obligation he lay under not to stir from his 
village for a whole year ; which he intended punctually to ob- 
serve, without transgressing a tittle, as became a true knight- 
errant, obliged by the strict precepts of chivalry. He also told 
them how he had resolved to turn shepherd for that year, and 
to pass his time in the solitude of the fields, beseeching them, 
if they had leisure, and were not engaged in business of greater 
consequence, to bear him company ; telling them he would 
purchase sheep and stock sufficient to give them the name of 
shepherds. He told them, also, that the principal part of the 
business was already done, he having chosen for them names 
as fit as if they had been cast in a mould. The priest desired 
him to repeat them. Don Quixote answered, that he himself 
w T as to be called the shepherd Quixotiz ; the bachelor, the shep- 
herd Carrascon ; the priest, the shepherd Curiambro ; and 
Sancho Panza, the shepherd Panzino. They were astonished at 
this new madness of his ; but, to prevent his rambling once more 
from his village, to resume his chivalries, and in hopes he 
might be cured in that year, they fell in with his new project, 
applauding his folly as a high piece of discretion, and offering 
to be his companions in that exercise. " Besides," said Samp- 
son Carrasco, "I, as everybody knows, am an excellent poet, 
and shall be composing, at every turn, pastoral or courtly verses, 
or such as shall be most for my purpose, to amuse and divert 
us as we range the fields. But, gentlemen, the first and chief 
thing necessary is, that each of us choose the name of the 
shepherdess he intends to celebrate in his verses, and we will 
not leave a tree, be it never so hard, in whose bark we will not 
inscribe and grave her name, as is the fashion and custom of 



372 THE STORY OF DON QUIXOTE 

enamoured shepherds." — "That is very right," answered Don 
Quixote ; " though I need not trouble myself to look for a 
feigned name, having the peerless Dulcinea del Toboso, the 
glory of these banks, the ornament of these meads, the support 
of beauty, the cream of good humour, and, lastly, the worthy 
subject of all praise, be it never so hyperbolical." — "That is 
true," said the priest ; " but, as for us, we must look out for 
shepherdesses of an inferior stamp." To which Sampson Carrasco 
added, "And when we are at a loss, we will give them the 
names we find in print, of which the world is full, as Phillises, 
Amaryllises, Dianas, Floridas, Galateas, and Belisardas. If 
my shepherdess is called Anna, I will celebrate her under the 
name of Anarda, and if Frances, I will call her Francesina, 
and, if Lucy, Lucinda ; and so of the rest. And Sancho Panza, 
if he is to be one of the brotherhood, may celebrate his wife 
Teresa Panza by the name of Teresina." Don Quixote smiled 
at the application of the names, and the priest highly applauded 
his honourable resolution, again offering to bear him company 
all the time he could spare from attending to the duties of his 
office. With this they took their leave of the knight, entreating 
him to take care of his health, and make much of himself with 
good, heartening things. 

Now fortune would have it, that his niece and housekeeper 
overheard their conversation ; so, as soon as the two were gone, 
they both came in to Don Quixote, and the niece said, " What 
z~ the meaning of this, uncle ? Now that we thought your wor- 
ship was returned with a resolution to stay at home, and live a 
quiet and decent life, you have a mind to involve yourself in 
new labyrinths by turning shepherd. In truth, ' The straw is 
too hard to make pipes of.' " To which the housekeeper added, 
" And can your worship bear, in the fields, the summer's sultry 
heat, the winter's pinching cold, and the howling of the wolves ? 
No, certainly ; for this is the business of robust fellows, bred to 
such employment, as it were, from their cradles and swaddling- 
clothes. And of the two evils, it is better to be a knight-errant 
than a shepherd. Look you, sir, take my advice, which is not 
given by one full of bread and wine, but fasting, and with fifty 



AND HIS SQUIRE SANCHO PANZA. 373 

years over my head : stay at home, look after your estate, go 
often to church, relieve the poor ; and if any ill comes of it, let 
it lie at my door." — " Peace, daughters," answered Don Quix- 
ote ; " for I know perfectly what I have to do. Lead me 10 bed, 
for methinks I am not very well ; and assure yourselves, that 
whether I am a knight-errant or a wandering shepherd, I will 
not fail to provide for you, as you shall find by experience.' , 
The two good women carried him to bed, where they gave him 
something to eat, and made as much of him as possible. 

But alas ! the knight was seized with a fever, which confined 
him to his bed, where he was frequently visited by the priest, 
the .bachelor, and the barber, his friends ; his trusty squire 
Sancho Panza never stirring from his bed-side. They, suppos- 
ing that his grief at being vanquished, and the disappointment 
of his wishes as to the restoration and disenchantment of Dul- 
cinea, had reduced him to this state, endeavoured by all im- 
aginable ways to revive his spirits. The bachelor bid him be 
of good courage, and rise from bed, to enter upon his pastoral 
exercise, he having already composed an eclogue to that pur- 
pose, not inferior to any written by Virgil ; telling him besides, 
that he had already bought with his own money two excellent 
dogs to guard the flock, the one called Holdfast, and the other 
Tear 'em. But for all this, Don Quixote's melancholy continuing, 
his friends sent for a physician, who, feeling his pulse, did not 
much like it, and warned him of his danger, believing that 
melancholy and disappointment had brought him to his end. 
The knight heard it with composure of mind ; but not so did 
his housekeeper, his niece, and his squire, who all began to 
weep most bitterly, as if he were already dead before their 
faces. Upon seeing which, he desired they would leave him, 
for he was inclined to sleep a little. 

They did so, and he slept at a stretch (as the saying is) above 
six hours, insomuch that the housekeeper and the niece thought 
he would never awake more. But awake he did at the end of 
that time, and, with a loud voice, said, " Blessed be Almighty 
God, who has vouchsafed me so great a good ; in short His 
mercies have no bounds, and the sins of men can neither lessen 



374 THE STORY OF DON QUIXOTE 

nor obstruct them." The niece listened attentively to her uncle's 
words, thinking there was more sense in them than usual, at 
least since his sickness, and she said to him, " What is it you 
say, sir ? what mercies and what sins do you speak of ? " — 
" Niece," answered Don Quixote, " the mercies I mean are 
those God has been pleased to vouchsafe me at this instant. 
My judgment is now free from those dark clouds of ignorance 
with which my eager and continual reading of those detestable 
books of chivalry had obscured it. Now I perceive the ab- 
surdity and delusion of them, and am only sorry I am un- 
deceived so late, that I have no time left to make some amends, 
by reading others that might help to enlighten my soul. I. feel 
myself, niece, at the point of death, and I would fain so order it, 
as not to leave the imputation of madness upon my memory; 
for, though I must confess I have been a madman, I would not 
confirm the truth of it at my death. Dear child, call hither my 
good friends the priest, the bachelor Sampson Carrasco, and 
master Nicholas the barber ; for I would make my confession 
and my will." But this trouble was saved the niece by the 
coming in of all three. 

Scarce had Don Quixote set his eyes on them, when he cried 
out, " Give me joy, good gentlemen, that I am now no longer 
Don Quixote de la Mancha,but Alonzo Quixano, for his virtues 
surnamed the Good. I am now an utter enemy to Amadis de 
Gaul, and the innumerable rabble of his descendants. Now all 
the histories of knight-errantry are to me odious and profane. 
I am now sensible of my folly, and of the danger I was led into 
by reading them ; and now I detest and abhor them," When 
his three friends heard him speak thus, they believed for certain 
that some new frenzy had possessed him ; and Sampson said 
to him, " What ! Signor Don Quixote, now that we have news 
of the Lady Dulcinea's being disenchanted, do you talk at this 
rate ? And now that we are just upon the point of becoming 
shepherds, to lead our lives singing, and like any princes, would 
you turn hermit?" — "Peace, I conjure you," replied Don 
Quixote ; " recollect yourself, and leave idle stories. Those, 
which have hitherto done me so much real hurt, my repent- 



AND HIS SQUIRE SANCHO PANZA. 375 

ance, by the assistance of Heaven, shall convert t« my good. I 
feel, gentlemen, the quick approach of death. Let us be serious, 
and bring me a priest, and a lawyer to draw my will ; for in 
such circumstances as these a man must not trifle with his 
soul ; and therefore I beseech you, while my friend the priest is 
with me, let the lawyer be fetched/' They stared at one an- 
other, wondering at his expressions ; and, though still in some 
doubt, resolved to believe him : one of the signs by which they 
conjectured he was dying being his passing by so easy and 
sudden a transition from mad to sober. To the words he had 
already spoken he added others, so proper, so rational, and so 
Christian, that their doubt was quite removed ; and they verily 
believed him in his perfect senses. The priest then made every- 
body leave the room, and stayed with him alone to give him reli- 
gious counsel. The bachelor went for the lawyer, and presently 
returned with him and Sancho Panza, who having learned from 
the bachelor in what condition his master was, besides finding 
the housekeeper and the niece in tears, began to pucker up his 
face, and fall a-blubbering. Presently the priest came out of 
the room, saying, " Good Alonzo Quixano is just expiring, and 
certainly in his right mind ; let us all go in, that he may 
make his will." This news opened the sluices of the swollen 
eyes of the housekeeper, the niece, and Sancho Panza, his 
trusty squire, in such wise that forced a torrent of tears from 
their eyes, and a thousand groans from their breasts ; for, in 
truth, as has been said before, both while he was plain Alonzo 
Quixano, and while he was Don Quixote de la Mancha, he was 
ever of an amiable disposition, and affable behaviour, and was 
therefore beloved, not only by those of his own family, but by 
all that knew him. 

The lawyer now entered the room with the others ; and Don 
Quixote having disposed of his soul (as is usual), coming to the 
legacies, said, " Item, it is my will, that, in respect to certain 
moneys which Sancho Panza (whom in my madness I made my 
squire) has in his hands, there being between him and me some 
reckonings, receipts, and disbursements, he shall not be charged 
with them, nor called to any account for them : but if, after he 



376 THE STORY OF DON QUIXOTE 

has paid himself, there be any overplus, which will be but very 
little, it shall be his own ; and much good may it do him. And 
if, as, during my madness, I was the occasion of procuring for 
him the government of an island, I could, now that I am in my 
senses, procure him that of a kingdom, I would readily do it ; 
for the sincerity of his heart and the fidelity of his dealings de- 
serve it." Then turning to Sancho, he said, " Forgive me, friend, 
for making you a madman, by persuading you to believe, as I 
did myself, that there have been formerly, and are now, knights- 
errant in the world." — -" Alas ! " answered Sancho, sobbing, 
" dear sir, do not die ; but take my counsel, and live many 
years ; for the greatest madness a man can commit in this life, 
is to suffer himself to die, without anybody's killing him, or 
being brought to his end by any other hand than that of melan- 
choly. Be not lazy, sir, but get out of bed, and let us be going 
to the field, dressed like shepherds, as we agreed to do ; and 
who knows, but behind some bush or other we may find the 
Lady Dulcinea disenchanted as fine as heart can wish ? If you 
die for grief of being vanquished, lay the blame upon me ; and 
say you were unhorsed by my not having girthed Rozinante's 
saddle as it ought to have been. Besides, your worship must 
have read in your books of chivalries, that it is a common thing 
for one knight to unhorse another, and him who is vanquished 
to-day to become conqueror to-morrow." — "It is so," said 
Sampson ; " and honest Sancho is very much in the right." 
— " Gentlemen," replied Don Quixote, " look not for this year's 
birds in last year's nests. I was mad ; I am now sober : I was 
Don Quixote de la Mancha; I am now, as I have said, the 
good Alonzo Quixano : and may my unfeigned repentance, and 
my sincerity, restore me to the esteem you once had for me." 

He then continued : — " Also, I bequeath to Antonia Quixano, 
my niece here present, all my estate real and personal, after the 
payment of all my debts and legacies ; and the first to be dis^ 
charged shall be the wages due to my housekeeper, for the time 
she has been in my service, with twenty crowns besides for 
mourning. I appoint for my executors, signor the priest, and 
signor bachelor Sampson Carrasco here present. Also, it is 



AND HIS SQUIRE SANCHO PANZA. 377 

my will, that, if my niece is inclined to marry, it shall be with 
a man who, upon the strictest inquiry, shall be found to know 
nothing of books of chivalry ; and, in case it shall appear he is 
acquainted with them, and my niece, notwithstanding, will and 
does marry him, she shall forfeit all I have bequeathed her, 
which my executors may dispose of in pious uses, as they think 
proper." With this the will was closed, and, a fainting fit 
seizing him, he stretched himself out at full length in the bed. 
They were all alarmed, and ran to his assistance ; and, in three 
days that he survived the making his will, he fainted away very 
often. The house was all in confusion ; however, the niece 
ate, the housekeeper drank, and Sancho Panza made much 
of himself ; for this business of legacies effaces, or moderates, 
the grief that is naturally due to the deceased. 

At length, Don Quixote's last hour came. The lawyer was 
present, and protested he had never read in any book of 
chivalry, that ever any knight-errant had died in his bed in so 
composed and Christian a manner as Don Quixote ; who drew 
his last breath amidst the plaints and tears of the bystanders. 
Which the priest seeing, desired the lawyer to draw up a cer- 
tificate, that Alonzo Quixano, commonly called Don Quixote 
de la Mancha, was departed this life, and had died a natural 
death. 

Such was the end of the ingenious gentleman of La Mancha ; 
upon whose tomb was inscribed this epitaph by his friend 
Sampson Carrasco : — 

" Here lies the valiant cavalier 
Who never had a sense of fear : 
So high his matchless courage rose, 
He reckon' d death among his vanquish'd foes. 

" Wrongs to redress, his sword he drew, 
And many a caitiff giant slew ; 
His days of life though madness stain'd, 
In death his sober senses he regaiu'd." 



FINIS. 



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5 o Tales of the Civil War. By the Rev. H. C. Adams, M.A. 

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2 o The Play-Day Book. By Fanny Fern. With Coloured 
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I 6 On the Seas : A Book for Boys. By Miss Campbell. 

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1. Put Off is not Done With. 2. The Porter's Son. 
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THREE SHILLING-AND-SIXPENNY BOOKS 
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Foolscap 8vo, cloth, gilt. 

PERCY'S TALES OF THE KINGS AND QUEENS OF 
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FRED AND THE GORILLAS. By Thomas Miller. With 

Illustrations by J. B. Zwecker. 

JOHNNY JORDAN. By Mrs Eiloart. With Illustrations. 

ERNIE ELTON. By Mrs Eiloart. With Illustrations. 

TOM AND THE CROCODILES. By Miss Bowman. With 

Illustrations. 

BALDERSCOURT ; or, Holiday Tales. By the Rev. H. C. 

Adams. With Illustrations. 

THE GIRL OF THE FAMILY. By the Author of "A Trap 
to Catch a Sunbeam." With Illustrations. 

THE BOY PILGRIMS. By Anne Bowman. With Illustra- 
tions. 

LAMB'S TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE. With Illustra- 
tions by John Gilbert. 

THE YOUNG YACHTSMEN ; or, The Wreck of the Gipsy. 

By Anne Bowman; With Illustrations by Harrison Weir. 

DOGS AND THEIR WAYS. By the Rev. C. Williams. 

With Illustrations by Harrison Weir. 

THE YOUNG NILE VOYAGERS. By Miss Bowman. With 

Illustrations. 

THE BOYS OF BEECHWOOD. By Mrs Eiloart. Illus- 
trated by A. B. Houghton. 

THE WONDER BOOK. By Nathaniel Hawthorne. With 

Illustrations. 

THE BOY FORESTERS. By Miss Bowman. With Illustra- 
tions. 

PLAY HOURS AND HALF HOLIDAYS. By the Rev. J. C. 

Atkinson. With Illustrations. 

DIGBY HEATHCOTE. By W. H. Kingston. With Illus- 
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THE DOCTOR'S WARD. By the Author of "The Four 

Sisters." With Illustrations. 



George Routledge &> Sons, Broadway, Ludgate Hill. 



THREE SHILLING-AND-SIXPENNY BOOKS 
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Foolscap $vo, doth gilt. 

SAXELFORD. By E. J. May. Illustrated by Aesolon. 

HARDY AND HUNTER. By Mrs Ward. With Illustrations 
by H. Weir. 

j^-flELEN MORDAUNT ; or, The Standard of Life. By Mrs 
f\ Webb. Illustrated by Absolon. 

EVERY LITTLE BOY'S BOOK. By Many Authors. With 

265 Illustrations. 

THE WILD MAN OF THE WEST. By R. M. Ballantyne, 

Author of " The Red Eric," &c, &c. Illustrated by Zwecker. 

LOUIS' SCHOOL DAYS. By E. J. May. With Illustrations 
by Birket Foster. 

ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. Translated by De Chate- 
lain. Illustrated by Henry Warren. 

BOYS AT HOME. By C. Adams, Author of " Edgar Clifton," 
&c. Illustrated by John Gilbert. 

SKETCHES AND ANECDOTES OF ANIMAL LIFE. By 
the Rev. J. G. Wood. Illustrated by Harrison Weir. 

ESPERANZA ; or, The Home of the Wanderers. By Miss Bow- 
man. Illustrated by Birket Foster. 

ANIMAL TRAITS AND CHARACTERISTICS. Sketches 

and Anecdotes of Animal Life. By the Rev. J. G. Wood. Illustrated by 
Harrison Weir. 

EVERY GIRL'S BOOK. A Compendium of Entertaining 
Amusements for Recreation in Home Circles. By Miss Lawford. With 
a Frontispiece by Phiz. 

THE BOYHOOD OF GREAT MEN. Intended as an Example 
to Youth. By John G. Edgar. Illustrated by Birket Foster. 

THE BEAR HUNTERS OF THE ROCKY MOUNTAINS. 
By Miss Bowman. Illustrated by Zwecker. 

MY FEATHERED FRIENDS. Anecdotes of Bird Life. By 
the Rev. J. G. Wood. Illustrated by Harrison Weir. 

THE YOUNG EXILES. A Boy's Book of Adventure amongst 
the Wild Tribes of the North. By Miss Bowman. Illustrated by Har- 
rison Weir. 

FOREST LIFE IN NORWAY AND SWEDEN. By the Rev. 
H. Newland. With Eight Illustrations. 



George Rout ledge &> Sons, Broadway, Ludgate Hill. 



THREE SHILLING-AND-SIXPENNY BOOKS 
FOR YOUNG PEOPLE. 

Foolscap 8vo, cloth, gilt, 

THE KANGAROO HUNTERS ; or, Adventures of a Family 
in the Bush and Plains of Australia. By Miss Bowman. Illustrated by 
Harrison Weir. 

THE FOUR SISTERS— PATIENCE, HUMILITY, HOPE, 

and Love. With Illustrations by John Absolon. 

THE GOLDEN RULE. Stories Illustrative of the Ten Com- 
mandments. By the Author of "A Trap to Catch a Sunbeam." Illustrated 
by J. D. Watson. 

THE WIDE, WIDE WORLD. By Miss Wetherell. Illus- 
trated by W. Harvey. 

FOOTPRINTS OF FAMOUS MEN. Biography for Boys. 
By J. G. Edgar. Illustrated by Birket Foster. 

THE BOY'S OWN NATURAL HISTORY BOOK. By the 
Rev. 7- G. Wood. With 350 Illustrations by Harvey. 

THE LAMPLIGHTER. By Miss Cummins. Large type, and 
well-printed Edition. With Illustrations by John Gilbert. 

LILLIESLEA ; or, Lost and Found. By Mary Ho witt. Il- 
lustrated by Absolon. 

HEROINES OF DOMESTIC LIFE. By Mrs Owen. Illus- 
lustrated by J. D. Watson. 

THE ISLAND HOME ; or, The Young Castaways. By T. C. 
Archer. Illustrated. 

GRIMM;S HOME STORIES. New Revised Edition, with U- 

lustrations. 

DASHWOOD PRIORY. By E. J. May. With Illustrations by 
John Gilbert. 

WHITE'S NATURAL HISTORY OF SELBORNE. Edited 
by the Rev. J. G. Wood. 200 Illustrations. 

UNCLE TOM'S CABIN. By Mrs Stowe. With a Preface by 
the Earl of Carlisle, and Twelve Illustrations by Gilbert and others. 
Post 8vo. 

TALES OF CHARLTON SCHOOL. By the Rev. PI. C. 

Adams. Illustrated by Absolon. 

SCHOOL-BOY HONOUR. A Tale of Halminster College. 
By the Rev. H. C. Adams. Illustrated by Julian Portch. 

THE RED ERIC ; or, The Whaler's Last Cruise. By R. M. 
Ballantyne, Author of the " Wild Man of the West," &c. Illustrated 
by W. S. Coleman. 



George Rdutledge & Sons, Broadway, Ludgate Hill. 



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